Archive of Our Own

Sound of a stack of papers slapping against the coffee table yanked Minho out of the blissful, cocoon like state he’d been marinating in for the past hour.

Beneath the heavy, fluffy blanket life felt warmer.

Maybe a little too cozy, considering he hadn’t moved in ages and hadn’t planned to anytime soon.

His gaze drifted lazily from the ceiling to the neat stack of printed pages now sitting on the table. Then higher to the person standing behind.

His manager was there, jacket still on, car keys still hanging from his fingers, wearing a familiar grimace that suggested he’d walked in and started regretting every decision that had somehow led his life to intertwine with Minho’s.

“Read it.” Seungmin snapped. “I even printed it for you.”

“Paper?” Minho looked at the pages and hummed. “What happened to all your save the trees speeches? Somewhere out there a forest just felt a disturbance in the force.”

He made no effort to reach for it. 

Seungmin didn’t blink. “Why do you think I’m standing here instead of emailing it?”

Minho tugged the blanket higher. “Because you missed me.”

“Because you ignored twelve calls.”

“Selective availability.” He corrected calmly.

Alpha in front of him exhaled, the faintest trace of melissa slipping into the air. Annoyed, but still contained. “Just read it. It’s a good offer.”

Minho tilted his head.

“You say that about every offer.”

“And most of them are good.”

They stared at each other. Minho leaned back into the couch cushions, eyes half-lidded, fully committed to not being the first one to move. He could absolutely win this if he tried.

Seungmin broke first.

“Just read it.” He huffed, arms crossing. “It’s a great offer. Especially after last year, when you… missed some opportunities.”

Minho’s brow arched slowly. “Missed?” He scoffed. “You mean had them stolen right out from under me?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes so hard Minho was genuinely impressed they didn’t get stuck that way.

“Could you, just once, not be difficult? I swear I’m not getting paid enough for this -”

The rest of the sentence dissolved into an irritated exhale.

Minho finally shifted, sitting up with a soft groan. The blanket slid down to his lap, abandoning him. He grabbed the papers at last, flipping through the first page. His face stayed neutral, professional even but his scent betrayed him, shifting just slightly, sweet notes curling at the edges.

Seungmin noticed immediately. Of course he did.

“Well?”

“It’s a romance.” Minho said, glancing up briefly before his eyes dropped back to the pages.

“I know.” Seungmin moved closer, settling onto the edge of the couch beside him. “I spent a few hours discussing this with the team. We all think it’s still a great opportunity.”

“I don’t do romantic movies.”

“I know.” Seungmin said patiently. “But maybe - just maybe - consider it? The change could be good for you after… you know.”

Ah. Right.

After Minho had nearly destroyed his own career by acting on instinct before thinking things through.

Two years ago, he broke his co-star’s nose. Completely unscripted, entirely on purpose. Right there on set.

The guy had grabbed Minho’s waist too hard, too low for comfort, before leaning in to murmur something about “having Minho on his knees later.”

Minho’s fist moved faster than his brain could catch up.

A lot of people thought it was justified. Both inside the industry and outside of it. Fans practically turned the incident into legend. But justification didn’t stop the scandal from exploding.

He lost the role.

After that, opportunities stopped coming nearly as easily.

Minho flipped another page. Then another.

“It’s not bad.” he admitted, waving the papers vaguely. “But where’s the fun in playing an actor on screen? I already do that all my life.” He hummed thoughtfully. “I like the bodyguard role better, actually.”

Seungmin leaned over his shoulder to look. “That one’s already taken. They specifically asked for you as the actor. Both roles are still leads.”

Minho frowned down at the pages.

A romance between a famous actor and his bodyguard. Interesting.

He rarely did romance - usually drama, action, things where he could brood or punch someone or both. But punching someone, even scripted, wasn’t the smartest move for him right now . And it wasn’t like he couldn’t do it - the whole romance thing. Not to be arrogant or anything. He was excellent actor. Objectively.

“Taken by who?” 

Seungmin shrugged. “They didn’t say. Just that they’re confident you’ll have good chemistry together.”

Minho’s brows furrowed. A sugary note bloomed in his cherry scent as a grin tugged at his lips.

“Well,” He said lightly, eyes still on the short script “let’s hope it’s Christopher Bang.”

Seungmin went still.

Minho smirked wider.

“He’s fucking hot.”

###

It was not Christopher Bang.

Minho’s eyes narrowed at the glass entrance to the conference room he’d been invited to that day. The hallway smelled faintly of coffee, and with the line of too bright ceiling lamps and empty walls it made a weird feeling appear in his stomach. Unsettling.

After a few weeks, this was the first official script reading with all the main actors present.

“You tricked me.” He shot at Seungmin, a look sharp enough to cut.

Seungmin glanced through the glass door. “I didn’t know.” He said, hands flying up. “Now get your scent back and get inside.”

“Unbelievable.” Minho huffed, letting more sourness spill into the air. His cherry scent twisted sharp and unpleasant - like someone had left a basket of cherries in a damp basement for a week. “I can’t get it back. I’m distressed.”

“Distress my ass.” Alpha rolled his eyes and grabbed Minho by the arm. “Come on.”

His gaze stayed glued to the inside of the conference room. To the figure sitting far too comfortably in the center, sprawled on a cheap plastic chair like it was a throne.

Slowly, he turned his head toward his manager.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a law about causing omegas distress at work,” He said coolly. “so you might want to watch it, Kim.”

Seungmin raised a brow. “There is no law like that.”

“Well, there should be.”

“And you’re welcome to draft your complaint to the government after this.” Seungmin replied, his hand sliding to Minho’s elbow as he jerked his head toward the door. “Move.”

Omega narrowed his eyes.

See, it wasn’t that Minho liked being difficult at work.

No, no. He was a professional

It was just that behind that glass door - right in the middle of the room, dead center, like the universe had staged it on purpose - sat the reason Minho’s life had been mildly, consistently, and personally irritating for the past year.

Minho had debuted as a child actor. One role as a rebellious president’s son had thrown him straight into flashing cameras, red carpets, and a career he’d never stepped away from. Since then, he’d given everything to his work.

When he presented as an omega at the inconveniently late age of nineteen, he didn’t give less.

He gave more.

Awards. Thousands of fans. Directors reaching out to him personally. Some even wrote roles with Minho specifically in mind.

Minho clawed his way to the top.

One stupid nose-bleeding incident ruined it. 

And some insufferable, cocky alpha had taken the chance and done it in two years.

Two years.

Minho’s eye twitched.

Appeared out of nowhere. For the past year, he hadn’t left anyone’s mouth. 

Actor of the year - stolen from Minho, obviously.

Alpha of the year - which was a really stupid title and Minho refused to respect it.

Korea’s Sweetheart of the year - which absolutely was not even a real award and no one could convince him otherwise. Sweetheart of the year, really? 

Multiple luxury brand ambassadorships. A Vivienne Westwood photoshoot that went viral for weeks.

Not that Minho had paid attention.

And most importantly, the main roles. The ones Minho had wanted. The ones he’d told his fans he was “taking things slow” from.

A lie, a polite one.

The real reason was sitting inside that room, laughing at something.

And damn it - he even had a stupid, heart shaped smile.

Freaking Han Jisung.

It wasn’t like Minho disliked him. No. He didn’t even know him, they had never met. But for the past two years, Jisung’s popularity had become what Minho’s used to be once upon a time.

So Jisung felt dangerous. Like a challenge he never wanted to face in the first place.

“Nope.” Minho drawled, already stepping back on his heel as fight or flight kicked in hard.

Flight won.

“I’m not doing it.”

“Oh, fuck no.” Seungmin yanked him back by the collar of his shirt. “Lee Minho, you are going to walk inside that room and personally remind them why they made the right choice. Understood?”

Minho shook his head, trying and failing to lean away from his manager’s grip. 

“Seungmin-ah, I’m being very reasonable right now.”

“Lee fucking - ”

“Minho-ssi! Seungmin-ssi!”

The door swung open before either of them could escalate this further. A bulky man in a tight black shirt stepped out, wearing a wide grin.

“My name is Seo Changbin.” He said cheerfully. “I’m the director of this production. We’re waiting for you.”

Minho’s eyes widened. He shared a brief, panicked look with Seungmin.

Seungmin elbowed him in the ribs.

Ouch.

“Ah - Changbin-ssi.” Minho said immediately, professional smile snapping into place like muscle memory as he bowed. “it’s a pleasure.”

He subtly inhaled.

No new scent. No omega or alpha presence. Just the same office air and the faint trace of his own cherry lingering on his skin.

Was there a scent patch rule he’d somehow missed? 

“Likewise.” Changbin replied, still smiling. “You’re the only one missing. Let’s start.”

The director turned back toward the conference room.

Seungmin’s hand appeared on the small of Minho’s back, firm, leaving absolutely zero room for escape.

“Your scent.” He hissed through gritted teeth.

Minho straightened instantly, pulling everything in, compressing his presence until his scent barely clung to his skin.

Then he stepped inside.

There was apparently no scent patch rule, because the moment Minho crossed the threshold, his senses were flooded. The room carried a dozen layered scents at once - sweet sugar and brownies, sharp mint, citrus bright enough to sting the back of his nose, and something floral. Maybe rose? Clean and expensive. He catalogued them automatically. 

The same trace of something flowery hit his nose again.

Wait.

He knew that one.

Minho bowed out of habit, polite even while his attention fractured. “Hello, I’m Lee Minho. It’s a pleasure to work with you.”

His eyes skimmed the table, deliberately refusing to settle anywhere for too long. 

Especially that one alpha. 

A lazy wave caught his attention. Long black hair, slightly wavy. And familiar eyes, sharp with amusement.

Thank god.

An ally.

Minho cut across the room, carefully skirting the center like it was cursed, and dropped into the chair beside Hwang Hyunjin.

“Hyung.” Hyunjin murmured, lips tugging into a smirk. “Long time no see.”

“A month? Two?” Minho murmured back. “You missed me already, Hyunjin-ah?”

“Desperately.”

Changbin stood, clapping his hands lightly. “I’m excited to welcome all of my main cast today.”

Introductions rolled smoothly.

Park Yuna as the manager. Minho relaxed a fraction, he worked with her before and he trusted her.

“Hwang Hyunjin as Jin Heecheol, the best friend.”

Hyunjin glanced at Minho, both of them smiling. The casting made sense. Too much sense.

“And Lee Minho…” Changbin continued, turning toward him. “Cast as Yang Seojoon. Our star. It’s an honor to work with you.”

Minho bowed as applause filled the room, warmth creeping up his ears. “Thank you.”

He kept his gaze lowered.

He knew who was last.

“And our gem, Han Jisung” Changbin said, voice fond. “Cast as Lee Eunwoo, the bodyguard.”

Minho’s jaw tightened. His hands curled under the table as he forced his scent back, kept it leashed.

“There’s no need for formalities.” Jisung said softly. “I’m happy to be here.”

Applause followed. Minho kept his gaze on the table. On a wood grain, some scratches, a coffee ring from Hyunjin’s latte. 

Minho looked up.

Big mistake.

Their eyes met, and the scent hit him fully this time.

Cinnamon.

Thick and warm, rolling over him in slow waves, sweetened with something sugary underneath, like a caramelized dough, heat lingering in the air after an oven door opens. It filled his lungs before he could stop himself, heavy enough to press into his chest, to sink low in his stomach.

Minho’s breath stuttered.

Fuck.

His omega reacted instantly, traitorous and alert, snapping awake like it had been waiting for this exact moment. His pulse kicked hard against his throat. His grip tightened on the edge of the table, fingers digging in as if grounding himself might help.

Unfortunately it didn’t.

He inhaled again without meaning to. The scent clung to him now, threading through his senses, making the room feel smaller, warmer. His cherry scent stirred in response, sweet notes blooming dangerously at the edges before he could shove it back down.

No, absolutely not. Not here.

Jisung’s head tilted slightly.

Oh god.

Minho swallowed, throat suddenly dry. He was acutely aware of his own body, every instinct screaming at him to react. To do something. Anything.

Instead, he froze.

Hyunjin cleared his throat sharply, the sound cutting through Minho’s spiraling thoughts like a knife.

“Right.” Changbin said quickly, clapping his hands again. “Shall we begin?”

Minho blinked, hard, forcing his focus back into place. His scent had already slipped. Cherries spilling sweet and ripe into the air, embarrassingly obvious. He could feel it, the way it clung to his skin, the way it answered cinnamon without his permission.

Jisung broke eye contact first as he turned toward the director.

“Let’s do this.” He said with a lazy smirk.

Minho exhaled slowly, every muscle tense as he dragged his scent back under control, locking it down with sheer force of will.

His heart was still racing.

This was going to be a problem.

###

“Are you nervous?” Seungmin asked as they parked on the filming set.

“Me?” Minho replied, peeking over the rim of his glasses. “No. I’m running on pure omega self-confidence.”

Seungmin sniffed - very obviously.

“You smell anxious.”

Rude.

“Then don’t breathe.” Minho shot back, already stepping out of the car and bowing politely to the staff greeting him as they passed. He smiled, soft and practiced, it came naturally after years in the industry.

This wasn’t his first day on set. Far from it. 

Minho had been filming solo scenes for a while now. Establishing shots, emotional beats, all scenes meant to ease the audience into the story before everything went to hell. He’d met the full crew, learned their names. Everyone was friendly. 

He’d even filmed with Hyunjin already.

That had been… an experience.

Their chemistry was too good.

Friendly, easy and familiar. So good that the second director, Yang Jeongin, had to stop them multiple times because their laughter kept bleeding into takes.

“Less flirting.” Jeongin had said once, deadpan, his citrusy scent wavered in the air for a slight second. 

They had not succeeded.

After that Changbin needed to take the lead. 

Some scenes required Minho’s hair black - flashbacks, before his character was assigned a new bodyguard. Now it was dyed a light blond, almost white where the early sunlight caught it. 

Pretty, but a bit cold.

Which was fitting, really, because Minho was feeling cold, freezing even. It was the first day of the main plot. The bodyguard’s introduction.

Which unfortunately meant Han Jisung.

“Minho-ssi!”

The makeup stylist grabbed him the moment she spotted him. He barely had time to respond before he was guided into a chair. Minho sat, arms crossing over his chest, hugging himself like it might generate heat. It was barely five in the morning. Five. An hour that should not exist.

He needed sleep and caffeine.

And he also needed several laws rewritten to protect omegas from early call times.

Something changed. 

Minho’s head turned before he could stop himself, the movement sharp enough that the makeup brush slipped and tapped his temple instead of his eyebrow.

“Minho-ssi,” The omega stylist said kindly, adjusting her grip. “please focus, so we can finish on time.”

Minho nodded, murmuring an apology but her voice faded into the background.

Because suddenly the scent reached him.

That cinnamon.

It spread through the room slowly, curling into his lungs, settling deep in his chest. Something sweet beneath the spice, it felt comforting. His breath stuttered.

Han Jisung walked into the room like it wasn’t an ungodly hour, wearing a fitted long sleeve shirt that clung to his chest in a way that felt deeply unnecessary. While Minho was layered up like a survivalist, the alpha looked like he could walk into a snowstorm naked and still complain about the heat.

Minho blinked.

This was not the time to think about naked Jisung. There would never be a time for that.

But was he always built like this? 

His eyes betrayed him anyway, tracing lines they had no business tracing. Arms, chest, lower. The way Jisung moved.

It would be so easy to bite - 

What? No. 

Minho swallowed.

The cinnamon scent drifted closer, thickening, wrapping around him until it was hard to tell where it ended and he began. His skin felt suddenly warmer. 

Was it getting warmer in here? 

Then his view was entirely blocked.

By a chest.

“Minho hyung.” Jisung said, smiling wide, eyes bright despite the early hour. “I’m really excited to work with you today. You’ve been such an inspiration to me. Please take good care of me.”

He set a cup of takeout coffee into the holder beside Minho’s chair.

The smell of fresh coffee rose immediately but it didn’t help. Cinnamon still dominated, lingering stubbornly in the air.

Minho blinked again.

Minho hyung?

He usually dropped formalities on set, sure…but hyung? 

Something warm slid down his spine, traitorous and slow. He shoved the thought into a mental box labeled absolutely not unpacking this.

He looked at the coffee like it might explode.

“Jisung.” He said eventually, the name rolling out far too smoothly as his omega perked up too much curious. “Thanks for the coffee. Let’s just… get through the day, yeah?”

Preferably with your resignation submitted by evening.

“Of course” Alpha replied easily, lifting his own cup in a small toast, eyes still sparkling. “To a good start.”

“Right.” Minho said, tilting his head slightly.“Cheers.”

He took a sip.

It was delicious. 

###

“So, we’re starting our romantic journey at the moment Seojoon meets his new bodyguard” Changbin said, pointing at the couch set up as Seojoon’s living room. “Minho - sit here. Yuna will enter with Jisung through that door.”

He gestured toward the right entrance. Junwoo, a beta from the staff, immediately stepped in to demonstrate how Minho was supposed to sit - rich but annoyed energy, apparently.

Minho nodded at every instruction, because he was a professional. A professional whose eyes kept flicking back to the entrance every few seconds. 

“Quiet on set!” Jeongin called out.

Minho adjusted his posture, sinking slightly into the couch the way they wanted.

“Sound?”

The rest blurred. Minho focused on breathing, in and out. 

Don’t think about anything.

“Camera. ”

Minho slowly exhaled.

“Action.”

Right on cue, Yuna entered, the sharp click of her heels cutting through the room. And right behind her…oh.

Jisung.

In a white shirt and slacks.

Not the soft sweater he saw him wearing before. Not the loosely hanging shirts. Almost a tailored suit. Hair styled, parted cleanly, confidence wrapped around him like a second skin. Every movement screamed control.

Alpha.

Minho’s omega leaned forward like it had been waiting for this moment all its life.

He felt warm again. Annoyingly so.

“Seojoon, this is the man we discussed” Yuna said, eyes flicking to Minho. “Lee Eunwoo. Your new bodyguard.”

Minho tilted his head, lazy and unimpressed. “You mean the man I said I didn’t need?”

“That depends on my professional assessment, Seojoon-ssi.” Jisung’s voice was calm. 

And aimed straight at Minho. They held eye contact - a charged beat, perfectly scripted.

What wasn’t scripted was the cinnamon.

It crept toward him warm, curling in the air like it knew exactly what it was doing. Minho’s cherry responded instantly, sweet and traitorous.

Jisung’s nostrils flared.

Oh.

Minho stood, closing the distance - just three cintrolled steps. He stopped just inside Jisung’s - Eunwoo’s - whatever -  space and tilted his head with a slow smirk.

“You think you can keep up with me?”

The cinnamon hit harder. The corner of Jisung’s mouth lifted. Minho’s brain stuttered.

That was not in the script.

“ Keeping up isn’t my concern.” He replied, eyes locked on Minho “ Keeping you safe is.” 

“Cut!” Changbin called immediately. “Yuna, perfect. Minho, Jisung - ” He pointed between them, half amused, half warning “ - stop leaning into each other’s space like that. This is Seojoon and Eunwoo’s first meeting. They’re not hopping into bed right after.”

Jisung’s eyes widened in genuine shock.

Minho was pretty sure his own expression mirrored it exactly as he finally registered how little space there was between them. Way too little. Practically breathing the same air.

Jisung took a polite step back at once.

Minho cleared his throat, heat creeping up his neck. His gaze snapped instinctively to the edge of the set, where Seungmin stood with his arms crossed and eyes already narrowed.

Great.

“That was good.” Jeongin said, tone careful, gaze pointedly fixed on the two of them “but let’s go again.”

Minho nodded quickly and retreated to his spot on the couch, sinking back into character or at least attempting to. He needed to get a grip. Slipping like this on set was not his usual style.

“Alright, again!” Changbin called. “Action!”

They ran the scene several more times, then moved on to different setups. By some divine intervention - possibly the combined mercy of exhausted omega’s gods he was praying to - Minho managed to stay mostly professional.

There were moments, small ones. A half-second too long holding eye contact. A step that landed just a little closer than scripted. Nothing obvious enough to annoy the directors or warrant another lecture.

But enough for Minho to notice. Enough for his traitorous omega to be far too pleased about it.

The day rolled by faster than Minho expected. One minute it was painfully early, the next the sky beyond the narrow window had darkened to deep blue. Filming wrapped, lights dimmed, and Minho was already back in his own clothes, leaning against the wall with a yawn that nearly dislocated his jaw.

Where Seungmin was when Minho actually needed him was a mystery science still hadn’t solved. Off managing something. Or someone. Probably abandoning Minho on purpose.

Minho huffed and turned his head to the right -

Oh.

Hello.

The omega inside him perked up immediately, practically batting its lashes at the alpha leaning beside him. Minho resisted the very real urge to scream into the wall.

“That was nice.” Jisung hummed.

Minho’s gaze betrayed him instantly, dragging over Jisung’s outfit. No suit now - just baggy jeans, that cursed tight shirt stretched over his chest like it was personally here again to torture Minho. He didn’t even realize Jisung was still talking until he noticed his lips moving.

“…what?”

“I think we did well.” Jisung repeated, tilting his head back so his temple rested against the wall. “Do you think I should be more - uh - emotionless in the scene where Seojoon shows Eunwoo his new living space? Changbin said it was good, but I - ”

Then he looked at Minho.

Big, dark eyes. Long lashes casting shadows against tan skin when he blinked. Soft expression. 

Why was he looking at him like that? Like Minho’s opinion actually mattered for him?

He should not be looking at him like that.

“I think you did great.” Minho cut in, a little too fast.

He wasn’t entirely sure if that was honest feedback or a desperate attempt to shut Jisung up before his omega did something stupid.

Jisung’s eyes widened, lighting up immediately. “Really?”

And Minho smelled it.

Literally.

The cinnamon softened, drowned out by something warm and sweet like cookies - flooding the space between them. It hit Minho square in the face. If he stuck his tongue out, he was convinced he could taste it.

So that was it.

That was what he’d smelled back in the conference room. Jisung’s excitement. Minho swallowed, forcing his expression neutral while his brain absolutely short-circuited. Interesting. 

“Yeah” Minho shrugged. 

Alpha hummed, clearly pleased. “Hyung, do you always give feedback that fast?”

Minho glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Should I schedule it for you? Do you want to wait for a few days more?”

Jisung smirked. “Just wondering if that was a professional opinion or if I already earned special treatment.”

He scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Didn’t.” Jisung said easily. “You did.”

Minho opened his mouth, then closed it again. Annoying. He shifted his weight, arms crossing automatically. The cherries wavered in the air, slipping through the cracks in his composure.

Jisung tilted his head, studying him in that quiet, observant way that made Minho itch. “You’re different off-camera.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“Different how?”

“Less scary. ” Jisung replied. Then, he added like an afterthought. “Just toned down, more real.”

“I’m not trying to scare you.”

Lie. Minho very much wanted to scare him off. 

Jisung’s smile softened, just a little. “Good. I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

Before he could decide whether to snap back or continue whatever this was, a familiar voice cut cleanly through the air.

“Min.”

There it was - the end.

Seungmin appeared like he’d been summoned by the universe itself, phone in hand, eyes already narrowed. His gaze flicked once to Jisung, then back to Minho.

“We’re leaving.” He said flatly. Not a suggestion.

Minho straightened immediately, relief and irritation mixing in his chest. “We are?”

“Yes. Five minutes ago.” Seungmin replied. “Unless you’re planning to continue socializing.”

Jisung took a step back, hands lifting slightly in surrender. “Was nice talking to you” he said, eyes flicking back to Minho. “See you tomorrow.”

Cinnamon curled into Minho’s space and his knees nearly gave out. His own scent answered before he could stop it.

He nodded, far too quickly. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

Jisung walked off.

Seungmin waited until he was out of earshot, then he sniffed the air.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Minho pushed off the wall. “And don’t do that. You look deranged.”

Seungmin stared at him. “Should we go back to scent blockers?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I have it under control. It was just a long day.”

“Min - ”

Minho turned and pointed at the nonexistent watch on his wrist. “Five minutes ago, right?”

The manager rolled his eyes, but his lips pressed into a thin line as he followed.

Minho had it under control.

There was absolutely nothing to worry about.

Total control.

###

Minho was losing it.

A total lack of control, if you asked him. Not that he would ever admit that to Seungmin.

Another morning, another coffee was handed to him by Jisung. The stylist swooped in immediately afterward, pulling alpha away before they could exchange more than a look.

Minho sniffed the cup, then took a sip.

It was good. Exactly the same as yesterday.

And yet - something in him shifted, restless, like a piece was missing.

Then Jeongin appeared, tablet in hand, announcing they’d be skipping a few scenes and focusing instead on the ones where Seojoon was at his absolute worst and Eunwoo was just trying to survive him.

Minho had a great feeling about this.

They filmed the moment Seojoon forced Eunwoo to sit through hours of his favorite survival shows.

The scene didn’t require much - Seojoon lounging, eyes glued to the screen, bored commentary dripping from every line. Eunwoo sat beside him, posture perfect, expression neutral.

Minho kept his eyes on the screen. Jisung sat close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed. Nothing happened.

Which somehow made it worse.

Then the alpha’s scent pushed outward, slow but deliberate, testing the space between them. Minho’s omega answered immediately, pushing cherries between them. A little bit too sweet. Not his usual cherries. 

Jisung’s lips lifted in a smirk. Minho rolled his eyes. Changbin screamed  “ Cut. Again!” 

A stupid game.

The whole day was like waiting to see who would snap first.

Another take had Seojoon pacing while Eunwoo followed half a step behind him.

“Closer.” Changbin said. “Like he’s always there.”

Jisung adjusted without complaint, shadowing Minho’s movements perfectly. Every time Minho stopped, Jisung stopped. Every time Minho turned, alpha was there.

Minho could feel him without looking. Sense the steady presence at his back.

Smell him. Constantly. The cinnamon hazing his rational thoughts. 

By the third take, Minho’s jaw hurt from clenching.

Apparently they decided to go through all of Seojoon and Eunwoo's short living room scenes at one go. Not all scenes, obviously. Because Minho knew what things would happen on that couch and he absolutely wasn’t ready for that. Yet.

But he will be, he’s a professional.

Next they filmed a simple, quiet moment - Seojoon throwing his coat at Eunwoo without looking.

Jisung caught it easily.

“Again.” Changbin said. “Slower.”

This time, Minho let the coat linger between them for half a second too long. Fingers barely brushed.

Jisung’s eyes flicked up.

Minho looked away first.

“ Cut!” Jeongin’s voice echoed through the set.

“ That was perfect.” Changbin stepped closer to them, his hand patting Minho’s arm. 

Minho didn’t miss the way Jisung’s eyes lingered a little too long on the director's hand. 

“ That charged stare, well done Jisung.” Changbin turned his head to the omega “ The eyes skimming away? Absolutely how I wanted to show Seojoon’s shyness breaking the whole facade. Good job” 

“An hour break.” Jeongin announced with a smile. “We’re doing something that don’t involve you two, so go eat. Rest. Be normal humans.”

Minho ended up eating alone.

Seungmin, as usual, vanished into the void - only a message sent his way: Stuff to handle. Don’t wander off. I’ll pick you up later.

So Minho sat with his rice, poking at it half-heartedly, when the one person he absolutely needed space from showed up.

With a box of still steaming pizza.

The rice immediately tasted more like a cardboard. Minho took a sip of water, glaring at the grains.

“Want some?” Jisung lifted the box and tilted it toward him.

Okay. Fine. They might be some kind of rivals. Maybe a disaster waiting to happen. But no rule in the universe said you couldn’t steal a slice of pizza from the alpha that annoys shit out of you.

Minho took one.

Jisung hummed softly, clearly pleased, watching Minho without realizing he was doing it. Or maybe it was intentional. That was even worse. 

The omega in Minho purred at the sight - alpha providing - and Minho immediately hated himself for it.

Primitive bullshit.

He shook his head, forcing the thought away.

“Did you always want to do this?” Jisung asked suddenly.

“Acting?” Minho glanced up. “Yeah. Been doing it my whole life. Don’t really know how to be anything else.”

Jisung nodded slowly, like he was filing that away.

“I think I’ve seen all your movies.” he said, smiling to himself. “Like - actually all of them. I was a teenager when you did that one set in Jeju.” He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “You were my celebrity crush.”

Minho froze.

“What?”

Jisung winced, then laughed. “Oh god, that sounded insane out loud.”

Minho stared at him, genuinely stunned. Something warm slid down his spine, settling low and heavy.

“You?” he asked. “Have a crush on me?”

“Past tense.” Jisung said quickly, then winked. “Mostly.”

Minho scoffed. “You’re lying.”

“I am not. You had that stupid haircut and still pulled it off. It was unfair.”

Minho felt heat creep up his neck. “You were a kid.”

“So were you.” Jisung shot back. “Just… a famous one.”

That pulled a laugh out of Minho before he could stop it.

“And you?” He asked, recovering. “Did you always want to act too, or is this an early twenty crisis thing?”

“No.” Jisung snorted. He leaned back, balancing the pizza box on his knee. “I wanted to sing. Maybe dance. Anything that wasn’t sitting still.” He shrugged. “Acting just happened. I stayed because I liked pretending to be someone who had their shit together.”

Minho hummed. “Yeah. That tracks.”

Alpha glanced at him. “What about you? Who do you pretend to be?”

Minho paused, chewing slowly.

“Right now? Someone who isn’t tired.” He said finally. “And someone who knows what he’s doing.”

Jisung studied him for a second longer than necessary. “You’re doing fine” 

Minho rolled his eyes. “Don’t get soft on me.”

“Too late.” he said easily. “You ate my pizza. Next time we’re gonna hold hands”

Minho huffed a laugh despite himself.

They fell into an easy quiet after that. No tension snapping.Just shared food, two cheap plastic chairs and the low hum of the set around them. It felt normal. 

An hour later, Minho was proven a fool.

“Jagi.” 

The word slid out of Jisung’s mouth like it belonged there.

Minho froze.

Jisung - Eunwoo - stood far too close. Close enough that Minho could feel the warmth of him, the faint brush of breath at his lips. 

“Oh?”Alpha continued, head tilting slightly. “What was that?”

Minho’s gaze lifted without permission. His mouth parted traitorously, before he could catch himself.

Jisung’s eyes dropped instantly.

Shit.

His hand came up, thumb catching Minho’s jaw, firm and precise. Not rough but not gentle either. Just enough to tilt his head up and keep him there. Still scripted. 

Minho’s pulse thundered anyway.

Something slipped and his scent bloomed. Cherries soaked in sunlight, sweet and lush and far too open. Sweetness that begged for teeth.

Jisung inhaled sharply.

His pupils blew wide, attention sharpening like a blade.

“You like that?” He murmured, thumb gliding slowly from Minho’s jaw, down the line of his neck - then stopping. Hovering. Right above his scent gland.

Minho’s legs nearly gave out.

“You like me,” Jisung continued softly “calling you jagi?”

The word wrapped around him. Claimed space in his chest. Made his omega rear up and almost bare its throat.

“Cut!” Jeongin’s voice shattered the moment. “That was incredible - holy shit.”

Minho stepped back immediately, breath uneven, skin buzzing.

“I need five.” he said, too fast, already retreating. “Water.”

He didn't look at Jisung.

Didn’t dare. 

### 

Minho didn’t see Jisung for almost two weeks.

It unsettled him. Which was stupid. There was absolutely no reason for it, so he decided to do the mature thing and keep it to himself.

Very well hidden.

If you hid a feeling long enough, it would eventually die. 

Probably.

During that time, he showed up on set four times, spending two days filming only with Yuna. Work went faster with her than it ever did with Jisung. Fewer takes, smooth communication, full professionalism.

The third time, Hyunjin’s modeling schedule cleared just enough for him to film a few scenes with Minho.

“Do you think director Yang wants to fuck me?” Hyunjin asked casually during break, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth.

Minho blinked. Then reached into the bag himself. He was craving something sweet, though.

His eyes followed Hyunjin’s gaze to where the young alpha director stood nearby, watching them with far too much focus. 

“I think they both want to fuck you.” Minho said flatly.

Hyunjin choked. “They both - who?”

Minho nodded toward Changbin, who was in the middle of a conversation with the staff but had not, in fact, stopped staring at Hyunjin once.

“Oh…” Hyunjin said slowly, head tilting. A lazy smirk slid onto his face. “Interesting.”

“Whatever you’re building in that horny brain of yours,” Minho deadpanned “drop it.”

His omega friend huffed. “Hyung, where’s the fun in that?”

Minho shook his head, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

Another day, he filmed solo shots. Seojoon pacing his apartment, nearly setting the kitchen on fire (harder than it should’ve been, considering Minho was an insanely good cook), and the scene where Seojoon paused, distracted, caught by the lingering scent of his bodyguard.

Oh, irony.

Minho could tell Jisung had filmed the day before. A faint trace of cinnamon still clung to the air. Despite fresher scents layered over it, Minho’s omega tracked the cinnamon like a starving animal.

Deeply embarrassing.

On his way out, already heading toward the entrance where Seungmin waited in the car, his nose caught cinnamon again. Stronger this time.

Minho turned. Did a full one-eighty like a man possessed.

And there it was.

Hanging off the back of a chair. A hoodie. Minho picked it up. The soft gray fabric felt warm in his hands, familiar. He lifted it to his face and oh. 

Fuck.

It smelled like freshly baked cookies drowned in cinnamon. Sweet. Unfairly good. Scent unusual for an alpha and apparently Minho’s new personal weakness.

He glanced around wildly. No witnesses. No judgment. Yet, absolutely mortifying. Minho shoved the hoodie into his bag before his brain could think about that properly.

Great. So now he was insane and a thief.

He made a beeline for the car, avoiding Seungmin’s raised eyebrow with every ounce of selfcontrol he had left. If alpha noticed the faint cinnamon trail following him, he didn’t say anything.

And the next morning - at the cursed hour of five a.m. - Minho didn’t realize Jisung was standing next to him until a coffee was pressed into his hands.

He flinched.

Cleared his throat before rasping a quiet. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” Jisung asked, head tilting slightly.

Totally. 

Just deeply haunted by the fact that I got home last night, immediately drowned myself in your hoodie like a lunatic, and fell asleep wrapped in your scent. 

Also, I stole it. No big deal.

“Peachy.” Minho replied instead “Just sleepy.”

“This should wake you up” Jisung said, glancing down at the cup. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

“You have a real gift for comfort.” Minho huffed, lifting the coffee, taking a sip and froze.

His eyes dropped to the cup. Then to Jisung. Then back to the cup.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jisung laughed softly.

The coffee was seasoned…with cinnamon.

Minho’s brain short-circuited.

Did he - 

Was this - 

Did he do that on purpose?

He looked up, searching Jisung’s face for any sign of smugness, awareness, anything. But the alpha looked perfectly normal. Innocent even.

Unfairly handsome too.

Minho couldn’t just ask. That would be insane.

“Uh..” he cleared his throat again, like that might help. “Just burned my tongue.”

“Careful.” Jisung said easily.

His hand brushed Minho’s arm, just a second, light and absentminded, before the stylist called his name and he walked off without another thought.

Minho sit there, staring at the coffee like it had cursed his whole bloodline.

What the fuck.

He was going to lose his sanity, and filming hadn’t even started yet.

But the rest of the day went surprisingly - almost suspiciously - well.

No major slip-ups. No accidental leaning. No cherries spilling out over the room. Minho actually managed to focus on his acting, on his marks, on his breathing. He kept his scent leashed tight, tucked close to his skin.

Maybe it helped that he’d slept wrapped in a very specific hoodie.

A little crime. But a useful one.

So when Jeongin asked him and Jisung to come talk, Minho followed without much worry. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be bad. They’d survived worse today.

The door closed behind the three of them.

Jeongin didn’t waste time.

“Today, I’d also like to film the scene where Seojoon and Eunwoo scent each other.”

Oh. 

Kill him. 

Right now.

Jeongin scrolled through his tablet, unfazed. “This one.” He turned the screen slightly. “After the reporter incident. The aftermath in Seojoon’s living room. Eunwoo scents him for the first time. Emotions are high, control slips a little.”

Minho stared at the wall.

He did not blink.

“Okay.” Jisung said first, voice steady but his brows pulled together. “But - uh - why are we discussing this separately?”

Jeongin looked up at him, calm as ever. “Because scenes involving scenting require clear boundaries before we film.”

Jisung frowned. “Boundaries?”

Minho cleared his throat, finally turning toward him. “You can’t fully fake scenting.” he said, voice careful. “Some of it always mirrors the real thing.”

Understanding flickered across Jisung’s face.“Oh.”

Jeongin nodded. “Exactly. If you both agree to film the scene, there are two options.” He held up two fingers. “We can use scent patches and remove them in post. Or,” his gaze sharpened “you can choose to go without. But I need to be one hundred percent sure you both understand what that involves and are comfortable with it.”

Minho nodded automatically.

It wasn’t his first time. Scenting scenes weren’t rare. In his last film, he barely knew his co-star - patches, no discussion. In another, with one of his friends, they’d gone without hesitation.

It always came down to trust.

He very deliberately did not look at Jisung.

Director continued “I’ll give you some time to talk it through. Revisit the script. Decide how you want this scene to feel.” He stood, already moving toward the door. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Right.” Jisung said.

The door closed.

Silence dropped between them. Minho exhaled slowly through his nose, fingers curling at his side.

This was fine.

“I don’t have much experience with scenes like that.” The younger alpha admitted.

Minho took a few steps forward and sat down, elbows braced on his thighs as he exhaled slowly. He kept his gaze on the floor for a second longer than necessary, grounding himself.

“It sounds scarier than it is.” He said finally. “If you’re nervous, we can just use patches.”

Jisung turned his head then, really looking at him.

“Do you want to use them?”

No.

Minho swallowed it down.

“I’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with.” He said instead, voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. “I want the scene to work.”

Jisung nodded, thoughtful. “The script says I’m supposed to take the lead, but - ”

“But?” Minho echoed, lifting his head.

Alpha hesitated. Just a fraction. “Is there a chance it would work better if you did?”

Minho’s breath caught.

“I think it could.” He said after a moment. “I can initiate it. Take the lead.”

Their eyes met.

“Then,” Jisung said slowly “it might be better to go without the patches. More real.”

Something stirred low in Minho’s chest. “Okay.” He said, throat suddenly dry. “You ready?”

Jisung nodded.

And Minho realized, maybe far too late, that they had just crossed a line neither of them could pretend they didn’t see.

They were placed on the couch,sitting sideways, facing each other. Minho’s knees almost brushing Jisung’s ones. The set was all noise around them, but he was stuck on the way Jisung nervously bit his lip and all Minho heard was his own heartbeat.

They didn’t started yet, still there was some final touch of the camera and all electronics. 

“ I actually lied to you.” Jisung pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Earlier. I told you I don’t really have much experience with scenting on set.” He sighed “ but the truth is I don’t really have experience with scenting at all. Like only between the family and never like this.” 

Minho nudges his leg with his knee. But he wanted to just touch him with his hand, to reassure him that everything gonna be fine. 

It’s just acting. 

But when his gaze focused on alpha in front of him, the way his eyes was glued to Minho, the way his own pulse was betraying him - he wasn’t so sure anymore. 

“ I’ve got you.” 

Minho said and winked, probably with both eyes because winking never was his strong skill. But Jisung smiled at him, so it counted.

“ Okay, guys you ready?” Someone’s voice cut trough the set.

The lights changed, everyone silenced in a moment. 

They were looking at each other. Minho trembled, get into acting, his character had just a rough moment at the airport. Jisung leaned closer, taking Minho’s palm between both of his hands, he looked absolutely unsure of what he’s doing. 

“Cut!” Jeongin yelled. “ More confidence.”

They stared over again. 

This time the alpha leaned slightly, his hand traced toward Minho’s, finger grazing his palm before taking his hand in his. 

The shivers run through his spine. 

Jisung looked him in the eyes, never breaking the contact as he pulled Minho’s wrist right to his mouth and placed a singular, soft kiss there. 

The cherry scent around almost exploded. 

He seen the sharp flaring of the alpha nostrils, the way he gulped. And then Jisung was nuzzling his cheek into Minho’s wrist, still looking at him. 

And Minho melted. Then remolded, by the pure heat crawling up his body. 

Before he could overthink it, Minho shifted forward onto his knees, closing the distance between them. The couch creaked softly under the movement. He placed himself between Jisung’s legs, not quite touching fully but close enough that the space between them felt charged.

Jisung still wanted him to take the lead - Minho could see it in the way he held himself still, in the way his hands hovered for a second before settling carefully at Minho’s waist. 

But the truth was, Minho was already far gone.

The slight brush of Jisung’s cheek against his wrist, the warm cinnamon scent curling around him, had undone something deep in his chest.

Someone yelled something in the background.

Or maybe Minho’s hazy brain just imagined it.

He shifted higher, crawling fully onto Jisung’s knees, his thighs settling on either side of the alpha’s. 

Jisung’s pupils were blown wide. His pink lips were slightly parted, breath shallow, like he’d forgotten how to regulate it. 

Minho tried to focus, he really did, but his gaze kept dropping to those lips, still damp from where Jisung had been biting them earlier.

It would be so easy to lean forward.

His lips looked soft.

So soft.

Jisung’s eyes flicked down to Minho’s mouth too, and that small movement sent another pulse of heat through him.

Someone shouted again. A faint “Hold -” or maybe it was “Cut!”

Minho didn’t care.

His breath hitched, and he leaned in.

For a split second it looked like he would close the distance, like their mouths would finally meet. But instead of catching Jisung’s lips, Minho dipped lower, pressing his face into the alpha’s neck, nuzzling into the sensitive skin there. The movement was slow, intimate in a way that felt almost as close as a kiss.

He felt Jisung’s fingers tighten around his waist instantly.

Cinnamon flared stronger.

Minho exhaled against his neck, letting his sweetened cherry scent spill freely now, thick and warm, coating the alpha beneath him.

Jisung’s grip flexed.

Oh Gods. 

The world narrowed to heat, breath, scent.

And then someone grabbed him by the arm.

Gently but Minho’s omega was already teetering on the edge of a growl at someone daring to get that close to his alpha right after scenting him like that.

His alpha.

Minho blinked.

His alpha?

What the fuck.

Where did that come from?

He looked up to find Changbin standing beside them, leaning down slightly, his voice lowered for the first time all day.

“Guys.” he said carefully “I think you missed our cut.”

Minho blinked again, like someone had snapped their fingers in front of his face and pulled him out of a trance.

“And I’m glad you did.” Changbin continued, glancing briefly toward the monitors “because what we filmed is really amazing. But we need to stop. If you keep going like that, you’ll get him scent-drunk. And that’s something we need to avoid.”

The words landed slowly.

Scent-drunk.

And that’s when Minho realized how quiet it had gotten. Every pair of eyes on set was on them.

On him half sprawled over Jisung.

On Jisung, whose gaze wasn’t unfocused exactly… but it wasn’t on anyone else either. It was locked on Minho, like he was the only thing in the room. 

The only thing that existed.

“Right. Sorry - ” Minho cleared his throat, heat creeping up his neck as awareness kicked back in. He pushed himself upright, carefully untangling from Jisung’s body. “You’re right.”

Jisung’s hands lingered for a second longer on his waist before slowly falling away.

“We’re finishing for today.” Changbin announced more loudly now, clapping his hands once. “Get some air, both of you.”

He walked off toward the other side of the set, already talking to someone about footage. And in his place appeared a very pretty, very freckled omega, smelling distinctly like chocolate brownies.

Minho had seen him before.

Felix - Jisung’s manager.

“Come on, Ji.” Felix said softly.

His hand reached for Jisung’s arm.

And Minho felt his canines itch.

“Don’t - ”

Don’t touch him 

The word slipped out before he could stop it. Felix looked at him wide eyed, confused. 

Minho forced himself to breathe.

“Never mind. I’ll go get some air.”

He turned before he could say something worse. Or do something worse. His chest felt tight. His omega was restless under his skin and Minho couldn’t tell if it was instinct clawing at him or something far more dangerous.

Fuck.

Minho was really losing it.

When he’d already changed into his daily clothes and Seungmin was nowhere to be found -

Phone disconnected.

Of course.

Minho leaned against the parking lot wall, typing for a taxi after another declined call to his manager who was very much supposed to be here.

“Need a ride?”

He lifted his head.

Jisung stood in the dim light, car keys spinning nervously around his fingers. Not smooth, not at all. Nervous.

“You’re not going back with your manager?” Minho asked.

The alpha shook his head, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes. He didn’t fix them.

“No. He’s already out with - ” he cleared his throat, suddenly fascinated with the asphalt “- he’s on a date.”

“It’s okay. I’ll call a taxi.”

Jisung’s smile dropped. “It’s really not a problem for me to take you home.”

Minho opened his mouth to decline again.

And then he caught it.

Cinnamon, but slightly burnt at the edges, something  wrong. Stronger than usual. Jisung was frowning at the ground now.

“What’s up with you?” Minho raised a brow.

Jisung groaned quietly. “It’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

He hesitated and bit his lower lip.

Minho very maturely stared at that for a second too long before forcing himself to look up. Professional. He was a professional. And he needed to remind himself of that.

“I’m just…” Jisung scratched the back of his neck. “I’m feeling a little overprotective after the whole… scenting thing.” He gestured awkwardly between them like he was explaining quantum physics. “And I know I have absolutely no right to feel like that. Zero rights. Negative rights, actually. I just - ”

He exhaled sharply.

“I’ve never done that before. Not like that. And now my brain is acting like you’re - ” he stopped himself. “Anyway. It’s embarrassing.”

Minho blinked. “You’re what?”

Jisung’s face went red.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“Oh no.” Minho said lightly. “You started it.”

Jisung dragged a hand down his face. “I just feel like if I don’t personally witness you entering your apartment safely, I might spiral. Like actually spiral. And I know that’s irrational. I know you can survive a taxi ride. You’re very capable. Extremely capable. Probably more capable than me.”

He was rambling now.

“It’s just -  I would feel better. That’s all. But you can absolutely say no. You don’t owe me anything. This is probably some weird alpha instinct glitch and I promise I’m not - ”

Damn.

He was cute.

Painfully cute.

Minho absolutely should not find this cute. Attachments because of work, because of staged scenting. Because of something that was supposed to be fake.

Unprofessional.

He’d also been wildly unprofessional for at least two weeks now.

“Okay.”

Jisung froze.

“Okay?”

“Okay. You can drive me.”

His eyes widened like Minho had just handed him the world.

“Really?”

Minho had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. “It’s just a ride. Don’t get dramatic.”

He stepped past alpha toward the car. 

Jisung stood there for a full second, processing, before jogging to catch up, nearly dropping his keys in the process.

He was smiling. Soft. Almost shy.

Minho ignored the way his heart skipped once - maybe twice - when the cinnamon scent drifted closer, warmer now. 

So sweet.

The car ride stayed quiet for all of three minutes.

Minho quickly learned that nervous Jisung physically couldn’t survive silence in a moving vehicle.

First, the alpha fidgeted with the radio for a while before suddenly perking up at some song, bouncing his head “Hyung, this is my favorite song.”

Then came an animated rant about the anime he was currently watching, which somehow turned into Minho talking even more because apparently their taste was disgustingly similar. Jisung laughed at Minho’s jokes too easily, too openly, and Minho absolutely refused to acknowledge how warm it made him feel.

Jisung on set was dangerous in a way Minho still couldn’t fully understand.

Jisung off set was worse.

Adorable, somehow. In the most unfair way possible. The kind that made Minho greedy for more of it - more loud laughing, more gummy smiles, more dark eyes glancing at him like Minho was actually interesting.

By the time he realized it, they were already pulling up to the gates of his residential complex. He reached for seatbelt immediately, a polite thank you already sitting on his tongue, but Jisung was staring at him expectantly.

“What?” Minho asked.

Jisung nodded toward the security booth. “Tell him to let us in.”

Minho blinked at him, before his eyes skimmed to the guard. Then back at Jisung.

“You want to drive inside? I can walk to my building, it’s literally fine. You don’t need to -”

“Hyung.”

The single word carried just enough tension to make Minho pause. Right. The weird alpha glitch. He sighed dramatically and rolled the window down, flashing his gate pass at the guard.

The gates slowly opened.

They drove through the neighborhood at an almost suspiciously slow speed, alpha glancing around with obvious curiosity until Minho pointed toward one of the buildings.

“Here. You can stop.”

Jisung parked and sucked in a quiet breath.
 “Fancy.”

“Mhm.” Minho hummed, finally unbuckling his seatbelt. “Can I go home now, or do you also want to personally witness me typing in my door code?”

“Which window is yours?”

Minho stared at him.

 “Are you serious?”

Jisung squinted back patiently.

“Three windows from the left. Top floor.” He muttered anyway.

“The top floor?” Jisung frowned immediately. “Aren’t you scared of heights?”

“How do you even know that?”

Jisung shrugged like it was obvious. “You mentioned it on set once.”

Minho blinked.

The soft feeling spreading through his chest anyway was honestly embarrassing.

“Okay.” he said quickly, opening the door. “Thanks for driving me home, you can leave now.”

He stepped out of the car. Jisung, however, made absolutely no move to start the engine.

“Jisung-ah.” Omega sighed. “I’m serious. Go home.”

Jisung leaned slightly over the center console, smirking. “I’ll leave when your lights turn on. Then I’ll know you got home safely.”

Minho huffed like this wasn’t doing terrible things to his heart.

“Okay, alpha.”

He meant it jokingly.

Unfortunately, instincts clearly didn’t understand sarcasm because the sudden sharp rush of cinnamon scent nearly took his knees out.

His traitorous omega practically screamed at him to climb back into the car, straddle the unfairly handsome alpha, and - 

Fuck.

“Uh. Bye, Jisung.”

Minho backed away from the car far too quickly, almost stumbling over himself on the sidewalk.

He completely ignored the confused look his neighbor gave him when he speed walked past her in the lobby.

###

The scene was simple on paper.

Airport chaos, crowd pushing. Seojoon stumbling, skin meeting concrete. Just a scraped knee. Eunwoo bringing him home - easy.

Now they were in the kitchen set, lights warm and low, cameras angled just right. Minho sat on the counter, legs dangling, shorts riding higher than he was comfortable acknowledging. Fake blood streaked his right knee, glossy under the lights.

And Jisung was standing between his legs.

Minho absolutely did not need that image.

His body reacted anyway - heat blooming low in his stomach, pulse kicking up like it had somewhere urgent to be. 

He focused on the script. On the work. On literally anything else.

Jisung pressed a cotton pad to the scrape.

Minho hissed. “Careful.”

He laughed fondly. “You’re dramatic.”

“Am not.” Minho shot back, right on cue.

Still following the rules. 

Jisung finished taping the bandage and caressed the bare skin of Minho’s leg. According to the script, his hand was supposed to steady Seojoon’s leg. Just for a second.

It didn’t leave.

Instead, it slid until his fingers pressed into Minho’s thigh. Just enough pressure to be grounding. Or claiming.

Minho’s breath hitched before he could stop it.

He looked up.

Another of his mistakes.

His eyes caught on Jisung’s mouth, on the way his lips parted slightly, breath uneven now. Jisung followed the glance instantly, gaze darkening, pupils blown wide. The hand on Minho’s thigh shifted, thumb brushing skin just beneath the hem of his shorts.

Not in the script.

Cinnamon rolled through the air, warm and thick but threaded with something else. Vanilla. That was new. 

Minho’s own scent betrayed him, not for a first time. Cherry deepening, turning sharp with roasted almonds. He felt it the second it happened.

Oh. That’s bad.

Jisung felt it too.

His grip tightened - maybe warning or permission, Minho couldn’t tell - before one hand slid to Minho’s waist and pulled him forward.

Then Jisung kissed him.

It was sudden, all heat and momentum, like that split second before freefall. Heart in your throat, body already committed. Minho gasped against his mouth, fingers curling instinctively into the fabric of Jisung’s shirt.

Jisung tasted like coffee and cinnamon and something sweet, unmistakably him. 

The kiss deepened, slow as if he had all the time in the world and intended to use it. Minho melted into it, legs parting without thought, giving in to the pull, to the way alpha kissed like he meant to make omega his.

For a moment it felt like the cameras weren’t there. Like the script had completely dissolved. 

They were just falling.

Minho gasped into Jisung’s mouth, breath breaking as heat coiled dangerously low in his stomach. Too much. His omega didn’t care - if it could, it would claw its way out of him and bare his throat without shame.

A traitorous part of Minho wanted that too.

It would be so easy.

Just tilt his head. Just give in.

His hands flew up to Jisung’s neck, fingers curling at his nape, threading through his hair. He fought the urge to pull, to anchor him there. 

“Cut!”

The word barely registered.

Jisung’s warm tongue slid against his, and Minho’s mouth fell open with a sound he didn’t mean to make. The kiss deepened more, messy now, breathless. More instinct blending in.

“Cut! Okay, guys - we’ve got it!”

Reality slammed back in all at once.

And then Minho felt it.

Too much warmth and something wet. 

Slick. 

Oh no.

His scent spiked, almond sharpening and cutting through the air like a flare. Panic followed instantly, souring the sweetness of cherry into something almost rotten.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This was it. Public funeral. Slicking himself in the middle of a fake, scripted kiss, under studio lights, surrounded by people.

He broke away with a sharp breath, pressing his forehead into Jisung’s shoulder as his omega whined in protest. He clenched his jaw hard enough it ached.

Jisung froze.

Then slowly his grip loosened.

Minho felt him inhale, deep and steady, like something snapped into place. Like the alpha caught the scent but chose control instead of instinct.

He knew.

Of course he knew.

Minho squeezed his eyes shut until white sparked behind his lids.

“You’re okay.” Jisung murmured, voice low, steady, right by his ear. Cinnamon wrapped around him protective. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

“Uh… guys?” Jeongin’s voice cut in. “Everything good?”

“Yeah.” Jisung said immediately, lifting his head, calm already settling over his features. “Hyung got dizzy. Didn’t hydrate enough. I’ll walk him to the bathroom.”

Minho scoffed weakly against his neck. “Smooth.”

“Mhm.” Jisung murmured back. “Come on.”

Minho slid off the counter on unsteady legs. Jisung’s hand went straight to his waist and didn’t leave until Minho could stand on his own.

The bathroom door closed behind them.

Minho stepped away, gripping the sink, forcing space between them. His omega protested violently.

Their eyes met in the mirror.

Jisung looked wrecked.

Swollen lips, hair mussed where Minho’s fingers had tangled. Pupils still blown wide, chest rising faster than it should’ve been.

Minho swallowed. “I - ” He stopped, exhaled, and pointed weakly toward the stall. “I need a minute.”

Understanding dawned on Jisung’s face a second too late. His jaw tightened, control snapping back into place. “Right. I’ll let them know you’re okay.”

Minho nodded and slipped into the stall. The moment the door clicked shut behind Jisung, Minho pressed his forehead to the cool wall. His hands shook.

Fuck.

When he finally left the bathroom Seungmin was leaning on the wall outside, right next to the door. Minho raised a brow when he handed him a bottle of water. 

“ Drink, at least do pretend you was dizzy.” He said calmly. 

Minho opened the cap and took a big sip. Seungmin’s gaze made him more and more nervous. 

“ Did they - “ He release a breath “ Did they realize what’s going on?” 

“ Don’t thinks so. They’re just worried” Seungmin shook his head. “ I was worried to but then your alpha practically growled at me when I wanted to enter that bathroom.” 

“ My what?” Minho’s eyes widened “ Don’t call him like that. He’s not my - he’s not...”

But the words couldn’t get trough his lips absolutely refused by the very stubborn omega living inside him. 

“ Go change.” Seungmin’s expression doesn’t give anything. “ We’re done for today. They told you to go home and rest” 

Minho didn’t protest. 

###

Next time it was Minho’s turn to appear on set, the universe didn’t pull him out of his misery.

It shoved him deeper into it.

The day started at the ungodly hour of five in the morning -  a time Minho had grown to hate with his entire chest over the last few weeks.

He woke up exhausted, slightly nauseous, and with a dull headache sitting behind his eyes like something slowly drilling into his skull.

And then Seungmin decided to fuck his morning even more.

“Minho.” His manager said carefully as he pulled into the studio parking lot. “Are you feeling okay?”

Minho kept his eyes closed because even the parking lot lights felt violent against them.

“Just a headache.”

Seungmin went quiet for a second. Apparently, that answer wasn’t good enough.

“You didn’t miss any of your pills, right?”

Minho’s eyes snapped open immediately.

“What?”

He turned his head slowly toward Seungmin.

“No, I didn’t. Why are you even asking?”

“There’s a slight change in your scent.” Seungmin replied carefully. “I don’t know if I should be worried about it.”

Minho huffed quietly and pushed the car door open. The second he stood up, dizziness hit him hard enough to make his vision blur for a moment.

Annoying.

“My scent shouldn’t be your concern, Seungmin-ah.”

“All of you are my concern.” Seungmin shot back immediately, stepping out after him. His arm brushed Minho’s as they walked toward the building entrance. “Worrying about you is literally my job. Both as your manager and your friend.”

Minho ignored that entirely and kept walking.

“Minho, if you’re going into heat, then it’s my job to - ”

He stopped.

Actually froze in a place.

Heat?

No.

That wasn’t possible.

Minho took suppressants specifically to regulate his cycles so he wouldn’t do something stupid like going into heat during the filming. A heat in the middle of production would be a disaster. Schedules ruined, filming delayed, everyone inconvenienced because of him.

And Minho hadn’t missed a single pill.

Not one.

“Leave it.” he muttered finally, starting to walk again. “There’s no upcoming heat. It’s just a headache.”

Seungmin sighed, clearly unconvinced, but thankfully changed the subject.

“I won’t be able to drive you home today.” He said. “I can’t stay. I’ve got something else to handle, so I’ll send someone else to pick you up.”

Great.

The irritation crawling beneath Minho’s skin sharpened instantly. His head hurt. His body felt wrong. And now he’d have to deal with some random person after a full day of filming.

Fantastic.

He clenched his jaw hard enough for it to ache.

“You’ll be okay on your own?” Seungmin asked again, studying him carefully.

Minho shot him a look.

“You can go. I’m not five.”

Seungmin looked like he wanted to argue anyway, but after a moment he only sighed again.

“Text me if anything feels off.”

Everything felt off.

Minho waved him away dismissively and headed inside alone. Halfway through the hallway, another wave of dizziness rolled through him.

Warm this time.

Minho frowned, fingers tightening around the strap of his bag.

Fuck, he felt awful.

The second he stepped into the makeup room, people descended on him like vultures. Someone took his jacket. Another person pulled him toward the chair. Someone else started fixing his shirt collar before he even fully sat down.

And then Gaeul appeared in front of him, took one look at his face, and hissed softly through her teeth.

Right.

So he looked like shit too.

Great start to the day.

Minho dropped into the chair with a groan, eyes immediately falling shut. The lights around the mirror stabbed straight through his skull, his headache evolving from annoying to murderous. He could practically feel his pulse behind his eyes.

And on top of that, he was irritated.

Not normal irritation either. It sat under his skin wrong. Like everything around him was suddenly too loud, too slow, too close.

Usually, mornings on set followed the same routine. Gaeul talking while fixing his makeup. Staff quietly moving around him. 

Still steaming hot coffee. 

And cinnamon.

The realization hit him a second later - it was missing.

Minho’s eyes opened immediately.

No loud voice somewhere nearby. No messy dark hair sprawled over the chair. No Jisung. For some stupid fucking reason, that irritated him even more.

Which made no sense.

After the disaster during the last filming, Minho should’ve been relieved. He literally slicked himself because of one kissing scene. Avoiding Jisung for at least a week should’ve sounded fantastic.

Instead, his omega decided to act pathetic about it.

“We’re done.”

Gaeul squeezed his arm lightly.

“Already?” Minho blinked at her.

“You kept sitting there with your eyes closed like a corpse.” She said quietly. “ Are you okay?”

Minho nodded and looked around the room one more time anyway.

Still no Jisung.

He stood up abruptly before his thoughts could get even more humiliating. Changbin appeared beside him almost immediately after he stepped onto the set. The director looked him over once before his brows pulled together.

“You good?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Your cheeks look pretty rosy, even under all that makeup.”

Oh god.

Another one.

“We’ll fix it in post.” Changbin muttered already turning away. “Come on.”

And there he went. Walking off immediately because everyone on this set operated like their lives depended on speed. Minho followed after him, quickening his pace and instantly regretted it.

His body felt weird.

Boneless almost, like his muscles had turned into jelly overnight. Heat pressed unpleasantly against his skin under his clothes, dizziness rolling through his head hard enough that he nearly missed a step.

Jesus Christ.

Maybe he actually caught the flu. That had to be it.

Minho looked around the set almost unconsciously, eyes catching on every dark-haired person for half a second before moving on.

No Jisung.

Damn it.

One heated makeout scene and now he was scanning everyone hoping to see his coworker like some desperate omega in a romance drama. Actually insane behavior.

And actually fitting one - because he was a desperate omega in a romance drama.

Maybe Jisung wasn’t filming today.

Whatever.

“Jisung’s not filming today?”

Hyunjin’s voice came from behind him so suddenly that Minho almost tripped turning around. Or maybe he turned too fast because he wanted the answer.

“Fuck, Minho.” Hyunjin hissed immediately after looking at him properly. He stepped closer, pressing the back of his hand against Minho’s forehead. “Are you sick?”

Minho smacked his hand away instantly.

“Gaeul will kill you. Don’t touch the makeup.”

“She won’t.” Hyunjin scoffed dramatically, both hands flying to his cheeks. “She loves me. She literally says every time that this face barely needs any work.”

Minho snorted despite himself.

“I’m pretty sure I heard her say that to Jisung actually.”

Complete fucking lie. But Hyunjin’s betrayed expression made it worth it.

“What?” He gasped. “That little snake.”

“Speaking of the wolf - ” Hyunjin continued, looking toward Changbin. “is he not working today? He promised to bring me something.”

Something ugly twisted instantly in Minho’s chest. Something mean. His brain barely caught it before it crawled into his throat forming painfully close to a growl.

Why exactly were the two of them exchanging gifts?

And more importantly - why did Minho suddenly care?

The irritation under his skin flared hotter suddenly.

God, what was wrong with him today?

Hyunjin was his friend, a good one. And Jisung…Jisung was just a coworker. That’s it. 

“Oh, no, he’ll be here.” 

Minho’s head snapped to Changbin so fast he almost dislocated something in his neck. 

The director answered distractedly while checking something on his tablet. “Just later. Couple more hours.”

Then he pointed lazily.

“You,” he said to Hyunjin “go to makeup.”

Hyunjin groaned dramatically.

“And you,” Changbin added, glancing at Minho. “come with me.”

Minho started walking again immediately, desperate to get away from people before someone asked him another stupid question about his health.

Unfortunately, Hyunjin grabbed his wrist before he could escape.

“But seriously - ” the omega said quieter this time, brows furrowed slightly “are you okay?”

Something inside Minho snapped tighter.

Another person staring at him.

Another person asking.

Another person acting weird about his scent, his face, his fucking body.

That irritation buzzing beneath his skin suddenly felt unbearable. Like ants crawling through his veins. Like his own clothes suddenly fit wrong. For one horrible second, Minho genuinely wanted to growl at him. Instead, he forced a smile onto his face so tight it almost hurt.

“Just a headache.”

After a few more hours of absolute torture - pretending to feel normal, act normal, smile on cue, say his lines correctly, not become a complete problem for everyone around him - Changbin finally called for a break.

Minho almost collapsed from relief.

At this point he wanted nothing more than to go home, crawl into bed, and maybe cry a little for dramatic effect. Or maybe murder someone.

Honestly both felt possible.

Instead, he slipped away into his empty resting room and shut the door behind him with a quiet sigh. The couch shoved against the wall was way too small for him, but he still dropped onto it immediately, curling slightly onto his side. 

His body felt wrong.

Too sensitive. His head still pounded behind his eyes and every muscle in his body felt heavy and strange, like he was dragging himself through the water all day.

Maybe a short nap would help.

Maybe if he closed his eyes long enough he’d wake up and stop feeling like an insane person.

Then voices drifted through the door. Minho recognized them instantly. Hyunjin was babbling excitedly about something while Jisung laughed beside him.

Too close.

The thought hit Minho immediately and so irrationally that his own eyes snapped open.

Not too close to him.

Too close to each other.

Jisung laughing at someone else suddenly scraped against Minho’s nerves in the worst way possible. Something venomous twisted low in his stomach. His omega hated it.

Actually fucking hated it.

Minho dug his nails harder into the couch cushion.

What the hell? Why did it matter?

Jisung laughed with everyone. He basically flirted with everyone. He smiled at everyone. That was just the kind of person he was.

So why did hearing it through the wall make Minho want to get up, walk out there, and physically insert himself between them?

The thought startled him enough that he froze.

Wait.

Was he jealous?

Minho squeezed his eyes shut harder, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead.

Okay, maybe he did have a fever.

Because nothing about his thoughts today made any sense. He barely even liked Jisung a month ago. Now suddenly his omega was acting territorial because the alpha was laughing with Hyunjin?

Someone knocked softly on the door and Minho ignored it. A second later the door creaked open anyway.

“Are you sleeping?”

Jisung’s head poked through first, soft smile already on his face.

Minho stared at him slowly from where his cheek was crushed against the couch cushion. Jisung didn’t even wait for an answer before slipping inside and quietly shutting the door behind him.

The room instantly smelled like cinnamon.

Minho’s entire body reacted so fast it almost pissed him off.

Jisung frowned after taking a few steps closer.

“Are you mad?”

Minho blinked at him.

“What?”

“You just seem - ” Jisung gestured vaguely around the room. “mad.”

Minho frowned harder before realization hit him.

Shit.

His scent.

Usually his scent stayed mildly sweet but it had turned sharper. Sourer. Agitated in a way he normally kept under control. Well, not anymore.

He felt horrible.

He wanted his bed. A cup of tea. Silence. Or maybe some stupid comforting movie. And judging by the way his omega reacted the second Jisung walked in, he also wanted to be buried in alpha scent until his brain shut the fuck up.

Maybe Jisung’s scent specifically.

Especially after hearing Jisung laughing with Hyunjin outside five seconds ago and immediately wanting to commit multiple crimes about it.

God, what was wrong with him? Minho again slapped a hand over his own forehead with a quiet groan.

“Are you okay, hyung?” Jisung asked immediately, blinking at him with genuine concern. “Hyunjin said you weren’t feeling well.”

Jisung sat down beside the couch without hesitation, his thigh brushing lightly against the top of Minho’s head.

Not close enough.

The cinnamon scent wrapped around him immediately and his body reacted before he could stop it, muscles loosening slightly, irritation dulling at the edges. His omega practically melted.

Minho suddenly wanted to bury his face against Jisung’s waist. Wanted fingers in his hair. Wanted warmth and scent and closeness and - 

Jesus Christ.

Maybe he actually was dying.

“How can I help you?” Jisung asked quietly, looking down at him.

Scent me.

The answer flashed through Minho’s brain so fast it nearly made him recoil from himself.

“It’s just a headache.” Minho muttered, voice rough from exhaustion. “I just need to survive until the end of the day and then sleep for, like, eighteen hours.”

“Okay.”

Something rustled - paper bag suddenly appeared in Minho’s field of vision, swaying slightly from Jisung’s fingers.

“I couldn’t bring coffee today.” Jisung said, sounding oddly pleased with himself “but I bought pastries instead.”

He wiggled the bag a little.

“One of basically everything that looked like something you’d eat. So hopefully I accidentally hit the jackpot with at least one of them.”

Minho stared at the bag for a second.

Something very warm spread slowly through his chest, softening the sharp edges of irritation that had been tearing through him all day.

That was…really thoughtful.

His omega practically purred.

Minho wanted to launch himself directly into Jisung’s personal space and stay there forever, which was honestly becoming a serious problem.

“Is there any chance - ” Minho asked carefully. “that you somehow smuggled pudding in there too?”

Jisung gasped dramatically.

“Hyung, do you think I’m some kind of miracle mind reader today?”

“A disappointing answer.”

“I said today.” Jisung defended immediately, already digging through the bag properly. “Next time I’ll come prepared.”

Next time. Why did those two words make Minho’s stomach feel weird?

Jisung finally pulled something out triumphantly and held it up.

“For now…” he announced proudly “I hope a cinnamon bun will satisfy you.”

Minho slowly pushed himself upright with a quiet groan, leaning heavily against the backrest once he managed to sit properly.

“A cinnamon bun, huh?”

The second the words left his mouth, Jisung froze. His eyes widened almost comically.

“Oh my God. “ He blurted. A faint flush immediately crawled up his neck. “I swear it wasn’t on purpose - ” he said quickly. “I didn’t even think about it like that.”

Minho blinked at him.

Jisung looked genuinely horrified now.

“The cinnamon thing.” He rambled, gesturing vaguely at himself. “The bun - my scent - I didn’t mean it in some weird alpha way, I just thought you’d like it and now it sounds insane - ”

Minho stared at him for another second before an exhausted laugh escaped him. Alpha stopped mid-panicked ramble immediately, blinking at him.

“Do you want to share it?” 

“Yes.” Jisung said softly “ Please.”

And thirty minutes later, Changbin found them on the same couch, far too close to each other for it to be anything even remotely accidental.

Minho was leaning against the alpha like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because, honestly, why wouldn’t he? He felt like shit, Jisung was warm, smelled amazing, and had brought him sweets. At this point, it would’ve been stranger if Minho didn’t end up pressed against him.

He could feel the urge building again anyway. The pull to shift closer, to nuzzle in properly, to bury his face somewhere in Jisung’s neck and just stay there.

But before he could indulge in it, Changbin’s presence hit the room.

Minho felt it immediately.

He didn’t even need to look up to know he was being stared at. Intense stare. The kind that said I didn’t hire you for whatever is this. 

Instead of leaning in, instead of doing something stupid and instinctive, Minho had to physically stop himself from reacting at all. 

A low, quiet tension curled in his chest.

What was today with him and that freaking urge to growl? 

“Guys - ” Changbin said, taking a few steps closer. “The intimacy coordinator is already here. We can start.”

Minho felt a strange, uneasy drop in his stomach. He sat up a little straighter without fully meaning to.

“The intimacy coordinator?” Jisung repeated, brows furrowing slightly.

Changbin nodded once.

“We’re going to film more heated scenes today.”

“Oh.”

Jisung’s tone stayed casual, but Minho felt it differently.

He swallowed once, hard, staring at nothing in particular while his grip on reality quietly shifted again.

Oh.

###

“Okay, so on the page this scene might seem intimidating, but from a technical standpoint it’s actually quite straightforward.” The intimacy coordinator said, setting a folder down on the table.

She pulled up several reference images. 

“The priority is maintaining the illusion while ensuring both of you remain comfortable and properly covered at all times. For you, Minho, most of your body will be concealed by camera angles, bedding, and modesty garments. The audience will likely see part of your chest, the side of your torso, and some of your hips, but nothing beyond what we’ve already discussed and agreed upon.”

Minho felt warmth creeping up his ears.

The coordinator switched to the next image.

“Jisung, your position is slightly more demanding from a physical perspective. You’ll be placed between Minho’s legs, but there will be no actual intimate contact. The camera will create that impression through framing. You’ll also be wearing coverage garments, and we’ll use barriers where necessary to maintain distance.”

She pointed at several pictures with different body positions.

“Everything you’re seeing here is fully choreographed. Your hand placements, body, eye lines, and movements will be mapped out beforehand. If at any point something feels uncomfortable, we’ll stop and adjust. Nothing happens outside of the agreed choreography.”

The coordinator continued walking them through each beat of the scene, explaining what would be visible on camera and what would remain hidden from view.

Beside him, Jisung’s leg bounced relentlessly.

Without thinking, Minho placed a hand over the alpha’s knee to still it. Maybe it was Jisung’s nerves rubbing off on him but his own foot had started tapping against the floor.

The coordinator finally looked up from her notes.

“Does everything make sense so far?”

Minho nodded.

Her gaze shifted to Jisung.

“Jisung?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I think so. We should be good to start.”

“Great.”

Almost immediately, Changbin materialized beside them. “Alright, everyone. Twenty minutes for touch-ups and final prep. Then we’re rolling.”

Nothing happens outside of the agreed choreography.

The coordinator’s words echoed in his head as Jisung’s lips traced the side of Minho’s neck. And Minho wanted to laugh, or cry, or maybe fucking moan loud enough for everyone to hear.

With every scripted touch, the next one felt less and less scripted, and suddenly there was no choreography.

There were Jisung’s lips on his, then tracing down his neck. There was the slow grind of the alpha’s hips, sending a wave of heat through Minho’s body despite the coverage between them. 

There was no choreography to the way his own dick was straining hard, already leaking at the tip.

To the low sound escaping Jisung’s lips when Minho suddenly felt much wetter down there.

Or to the way the scent of arousal around them was so thick someone could cut it with a knife.

Minho moved his own hips. His face nuzzled into Jisung’s neck, licking a fat stripe down to his scent gland.

Alpha froze.

“Hyung -“ 

Jisung stopped, his voice somewhere at the back of Minho’s head, not completely clear.

“Hyung.”

Minho only nuzzled further into his neck, lips brushing against warm skin. He wanted more. To kiss him more. To have more of him. His body slowly rolled beneath the alpha’s weight, but strong fingers tightened around his hips, completely keeping him in place.

“Minho, baby.” Jisung tried again.

And if Minho hadn’t been getting more and more turned on by the pet name, maybe he would’ve felt embarrassed by the pathetic whine that slipped from his throat.

He tried to move again.

Jisung’s hold remained firm.

“Your scent - “ Jisung said, tilting his head to catch Minho’s eyes. “There’s something different about your scent. I think we should stop.”

“What?” He frowned immediately. “No.”

Another quiet whine escaped him before he could stop it.

“Look, Minho…” Jisung whispered, his breath warm against omegas’ lips. “As much as I would love to continue - and I mean really, really much - there are too many people here.”

Minho blinked at him.

Jisung looked painfully serious.

“Like… around thirty people too many for where this thing between us is heading.”

The words finally cut through the haze. A little. Just enough for Minho’s brain to start working again.

Sugary cherries laced with almonds scratched at the back of his throat. His own scent suddenly felt overwhelming.

Too much sweet syrupy.

His heat scent.

Minho’s eyes widened.

“Shit.” He murmured, more to himself than to Jisung. Because suddenly everything started clicking into place. “Seungmin was right.”

“What?”

Minho looked up.

And honestly, that wasn’t helping either. He’d looked at Jisung hundreds of times already. But somehow, every single time, something about the alpha still managed to leave him staring.

Especially now.

His irises were blown wide. His hair was ruffled from Minho’s hands. His lips looked bitten.

And his scent…gods. His scent was layered thick with pure want.

Minho practically purred at that.

“Fuck.” 

Jisung looked even more confused.

“Hyung?”

“I need to get out of here.” The words came out slow. Minho felt like he was on the verge of panicking. 

Jisung’s brows furrowed.

“What?”

“My heat.” The realization settled heavily in Minho’s stomach. A cold shiver ran down his spine. “My heat started early.”

Early was an understatement.

Jisung stared at him before his eyes widened. Then they somehow widened even more. Minho genuinely hadn’t thought that was physically possible.

“Right.”

Jisung dragged a hand through his hair and looked away. His brows furrowed as his gaze flickered toward the staff and Changbin, who somehow looked even more concerned than before.

“Okay.”

He said it again.

And judging by the way his voice wavered slightly, he was trying to reassure himself more than Minho.

He was nervous.

Under different circumstances, Minho might have found that cute. Right now, however, his mind wanted absolutely nothing cute from Jisung. It wanted the alpha ruined, down on his knees in front of him.

Their eyes met again.

Minho wanted to fucking devour him.

“Minho, Jisung… is everything alright? You stepped out of the script, completely.”

The intimacy coordinator appeared out of absolutely nowhere. Both of them startled, poor alpha actually flinched.

“Uh…” Minho rubbed a hand over his face. “My heat kind of kicked in early.” The words left his mouth and he immediately wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “God, this is mortifying.”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” She sounded remarkably calm for someone dealing with this situation. “It happens sometimes, even on set. If an alpha is particularly compatible with your omega and you find them attractive-”

Minho’s gaze snapped to Jisung on pure instinct.

His “particularly compatible” alpha looked entirely too pleased with himself. Minho shoved his arm. 

“Stop fucking grinning.”

Jisung immediately raised both hands in surrender.

“Hey, stop abusing the alpha you apparently find attractive.”

“Oh my god.” Minho groaned and pushed himself off the couch. “I’m going home.”

Turning back to the coordinator, he forced himself to regain some dignity.

“Could you maybe tell them-”

“Of course.” She nodded immediately. “I’ll handle everything. Do you have a ride home, or should we call someone for you?”

“Thank you, but I’ll manage.”

He gave her a quick bow. Every second he stayed there felt increasingly unbearable.

“And now, if you’ll excuse me…” He started backing toward the exit. “I desperately need a minute.”

He didn’t finish properly. He was already turning away, already halfway imagining the cold tile of the bathroom floor where he would melt onto from a combination of embarrassment and that annoying, insistent horniness buzzing under his skin, Jisung was suddenly on his feet and grabbing his wrist.

“Is Seungmin going to pick you up?”

Minho shook his head.

“No, he’s out of town. He said he’d send someone.”

Jisung’s fingers tightened slightly around his wrist.

“I’ll drive you.”

Minho opened his mouth to refuse automatically, but the alpha cut in before he could get a word out.

“Before you say no, I just think I should. I mean - drive you home. So you’re comfortable and safe and - ”

He was rambling again.

Minho felt his patience fray at the edges. He wanted to shut Jisung up, preferably by pressing his mouth against his and stopping all those unnecessary words from spilling out.

Jisung was still talking, words blurring into the background, so Minho simply decided to end his own suffering.

“Okay.”

“And I swear I don’t mean to impose on your apartment or - wait. Okay?”

“Okay.” Minho repeated calmly, even though nothing about him felt calm at all. “You can drive me home. I just need to get to the bathroom real quick, so can you explain everything to Changbin and meet me there? Before I completely lose my fucking mind in here.”

Jisung nodded quickly, almost too quickly, like an overexcited puppy finally given a task.

“Okay, I can do that.” He said, sounding far more confident than he had a second ago.

Minho nodded back, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling.

He took a few steps backward.

“And don’t make me wait too long, alpha.”

The words were out before he could think twice.

The sweetness in Jisung’s scent spiked, layered with cinnamon so intense it nearly knocked the breath out of him. Minho’s knees almost gave out. Alpha just stared at him like he was one second away from forgetting there were still way too many people in the building and deciding none of that mattered anymore.

And before Minho could change his mind, he slipped out through the door.

His stupid heart did not calm down even slightly.

###

The moment Minho stepped through the bathroom door, his brain was on full alert.

He splashed cold water on his face, briefly considering drowning himself in the sink just to avoid going back out there and facing the fact that an entire film crew had witnessed him slowly going into heat because of a fake sex scene.

He was never recovering from this.

Minho pulled out his phone and called Seungmin. After the second dead end, he texted him a simple emergency.

Seungmin called back the moment Minho stepped out of the stall after dealing with at least some of the sticky mess in his underwear.

“Did you slick your pants again?”

Minho gritted his teeth.

“Not… exactly. But there’s more to it.”

“Not exactly?” Seungmin asked. “Do I even want to know?”

Probably not.

“Look, you were right.” Minho sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Something isn’t right with me. I’m kind of going into heat right now.”

The following silence felt loud. That could only mean Seungmin was deciding whether murder could be legally justifiable.

“Kind of going into heat?” Seungmin repeated the words so flatly it was honestly impressive. “What the fuck does kind of going into heat mean?”

“I don’t know.”

Seungmin sighed. “You don’t know?”

“I mean I know now.”

“Minho.”

“It’s embarrassing.” Omega replied, letting his head fall back against the cold tiles.

Seungmin scoffed. “Minho, I’ve known you for years. I’ve seen you in states no friend should ever witness.”

“Oh my God .”

“My eyes still haven’t recovered from accidentally seeing you fucking yourself with that weird dildo shaped like - ”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” He gritted through his teeth.

“Anyway - ” Seungmin continued mercilessly “I think we’re well past embarrassment.”

Minho choked out a muffled laugh.

“Okay, I slicked my underwear again because my hot alpha coworker sent me into heat during a fake sex scene” he said in a rushed voice. “But in my defense, I think I was already in pre-heat for some time.”

“No shit. I told you that this morning.” Seungmin muttered back. “ That’s all?” 

“What do you mean that’s all? Would you like me to cry? Because I might. ” 

That finally earned a short laugh from Seungmin.

“Where are you? I’ll send someone to get you home.”

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door. Minho smelled Jisung before the door even opened.

“Uhm -  actually - ” Minho hesitated when his eyes met the alpha’s. “Jisung will drive me home.”

Seungmin sighed. Loudly.

“What’s nine times nine?”

“What?” Minho’s brows furrowed. “Eighty-one?”

“Six months ago we got drunk and I got a scar on my knee. How did I get it?”

Okay, now he was really confused.

Jisung looked at him, head tilting slightly like he could sense that Minho was completely lost in whatever was happening. 

“Are you being serious?”

“Answer, Minho.”

“You slipped outside a pub and nearly face planted into someone’s dick.”

“That’s not exactly how it happened, but close enough.” Seungmin gritted “What’s your favorite movie?”

Jisung was openly staring at him. “What is happening?” the alpha mouthed.

Minho just shrugged helplessly.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m checking if your brain is working well enough for you to go home with freaking Han Jisung.” Seungmin snapped back.

Minho wanted to laugh.

“I’m going into a fucking heat. I’m not possessed.”

“Debatable.” 

Jisung stepped closer, not touching him yet, but Minho’s own fingers itched to pull him nearer.

Seungmin sighed again, he’d given up. “Are you sure?”

Minho grabbed the hem of Jisung’s shirt and tugged him closer. Jisung looked like he couldn’t quite assess what was going on inside the omega’s head.

To be honest, Minho didn’t know either.

He just wanted him close.

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll check on you later. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t destroy your public image.”

“Okay, manager Kim.”

“Stay safe. Remember to eat.” Seungmin’s voice suddenly got louder. “And Han Jisung.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. He leaned closer to Minho’s phone. “Uh… yes?”

“I know I don’t look very threatening.”

“You really don’t.”

“Jisung.” Minho muttered.

“But hurt him in any way and I’ll kick your ass.”

Jisung immediately straightened. “Okay, manager Kim.”

“That’s not the manager talking.” Seungmin muttered. “That’s just Seungmin. A friend.”

The line went quiet.

Minho released a breath, looking back at Jisung and suddenly realizing just how close he had pulled the alpha during the phone call.

“How are you feeling?”

That was actually a good question.

Minho felt warm - actually, maybe too warm. His temperature had gone up a lot. His headache had eased a little, but instead of it, a sharp pressure had started building in his abdomen.

And that was not a good sign.

“Still sane.” Minho replied. Not for long, his brain added unhelpfully. “But we need to go. I think it’ll really hit me in an hour or so.”

“Alright.” Jisung said calmly, his eyes dropping to Minho’s lips. “We should go.”

“Yeah.” He said weakly before his own gaze dropped too. Just for a second.

Jisung’s lips were on his, or maybe it was Minho who moved first. No matter who started it, he could only gasp in satisfaction as his lower back hit the sink counter.

Alpha kissed him like it was both the first time and the last. His tongue met Minho’s and a thin string of spit connected them when they pulled apart for a shaky breath. 

Messy and wet. 

Exactly what was happening to Minho much lower down.

Jisung’s breath grew heavier as their eyes met. He looked at the omega like he wanted reassurance that this was fine, that this was what Minho wanted.

So he gave him one.

“Alpha.” Minho rasped, and maybe after this heat he’d be embarrassed by the number of times he’d said that. But not now. “Alpha, touch me.”

Jisung kissed down Minho’s jaw before licking at his neck, his teeth grazing the skin. He tilted his neck to the side, giving him more access like a good omega.

And fuck, Minho wanted to be a good omega for him. 

A new wave of slick poured down his inner thigh, joining the already cold wetness there.

“Fuck.” A low murmur as Jisung’s nose pressed against Minho’s scent gland. “You’re so delicious.”

His hand moved higher, fingers sliding through alpha’s hair as he tightened his grip.

Jisung moaned.

God. Minho might actually ascend right here.

“Touch me.” he said again, eyes locked on Jisung’s lips, fighting the urge to kiss him again.

“Demanding.”

Jisung’s voice carried a smirk that he buried against Minho’s neck, his hands slipping under the shirt. The first brush of fingers against his nipple made his back arch. His head fell back, eyes squeezed shut, chest rising with slow, shaky breaths. Fingers wandered along the sides of his waist, leaving feather-light touches over his stomach before pulling away.

Minho dared to look down and see why.

Jisung’s knees hit the floor.

“Can I?” alpha asked, fingers hovering over the zipper.

Minho nodded through bitten lips as heat flooded his abdomen.

The cool air hit the damp patch where his cock was leaking before his pants dropped to the floor, baring all the slick to see. Jisung pressed his nose against Minho’s clothed cock before looking up.

Fucking hell.

Minho looked down at him - cheek pressed against him, flushed skin, lips slightly parted like he’d forgotten how to breath. Jisung looked like sin itself.

That nervous, rambling alpha was gone.

Minho’s fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.

“I’ll make you feel good.” Jisung said, kissing Minho’s hip through his underwear before yanking it down to his ankles, his knuckles grazing skin all the way down.

Minho moaned when warm fingers wrapped around him, a thumb brushing against the head.

Alpha smirked at him with cocky confidence.

“My sensitive baby.”

Then he sucked at his inner thigh, licking down some of the slick there and humming at the taste.

“Fuck.” Minho rasped. He wanted to close his legs, but Jisung’s steady hands kept them apart. “Jisung, please.”

Cinnamon blurred Minho’s senses, mixing with his own cherries. It was almost dizzying to stand still while the scent around them went wild.

“Please what?” Jisung looked up at him, his chin glistening with slick. “You need alpha to touch you? That’s what you want, baby?”

The only thing that came out was another moan ripping through his throat. Jisung licked down his shaft before circling back to suck at the tip. Minho slapped a palm over his mouth as his gasp grew embarrassingly louder. His hips moved at their own pace, almost choking alpha, who was taking him so well.

Jisung’s gaze caught his for a heartbeat before dropping back down, paying attention to every sharp inhale, every breathy whine. Minho’s fingers curled into his hair - partly to ground himself, partly to provoke if he could pull another ragged moan straight from his throat.

That wet mouth did a perfect job of pulling him closer to the edge.

“Jisung - alpha - fuck.” Minho pushed his hips again, Jisung’s fingers tightening on his thighs to keep him pressed against the counter. “I’m gonna - ahh.”

Mouth went off his cock with a wet sound.

“ How far do you want to take this?” 

What. 

He looked down, blinking. 

“How much are you willing to give me?”

“Everything.” Their eyes met. “But we’d need a week in here for all the things I’d like to do with you.” Jisung’s fingers traced up Minho’s thigh.

What had Minho done in his previous life for his current self to witness this?

Jisung was on his knees for him, looking at him with so much lust. Looking at him as if he wanted to sink his teeth into Minho’s skin. To have him. To claim him.

In his last life, he must have saved the world from ending, and now he was getting rewarded.

His hand dropped to Jisung’s jaw before his thumb pressed against the plush of his lips. Wet and swollen from Minho’s cock.

Jisung kissed the tip of his thumb, and it was such a delicate gesture considering the situation they found themselves in that it made Minho still for a moment, simply blinking.

“What do you want me to do?” Jisung asked. “Tell me, baby. What do you need?”

“I want your lips.” His eyes stayed fixed on them. “And your fingers. Inside.”

“Like this?”

Fingers wrapped around his shaft, squeezing. Jisung hummed before his tongue lolled out to circle the head. Minho watched a drop of precum gather at the tip before Jisung sucked it away. His head fell back with a gasp. Then he felt the alpha reach behind him, fingers pressing against his rim.

Minho moaned, his palms tightening against the counter as he pushed his hips back, urging the finger deeper.

Jisung sucked him off like a possessed man, as though he were the one in heat. He slowly fucked Minho with one finger, slick dripping down his hand.

“More. Jisungie, please” Minho whined, his breath growing shallow.

He was so painfully close.

The cinnamon scent thickened around him, invading all of Minho’s senses just as Jisung pushed a second finger deeper inside him. The rhythm of his fingers matched the rhythm of his mouth, the way his tongue swirled around Minho’s cock.

Minho was then dangerously close to the edge.

Jisung’s fingers brushed against his prostate. It wasn’t even intentional, but it sent an electric sensation through his abdomen. He gasped - or maybe choked on a moan.

His fingers tangled in Jisung’s hair, gripping tightly.

“I’m gonna - close, Jisung. Close.”

Alpha only sucked harder, especially as the full force of Minho’s orgasm hit him. His body trembled, his legs feeling like cotton. Jisung’s throat bobbed around him twice as he swallowed before pulling away and sliding his fingers free.

Minho whined at the loss.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Jisung said, looking up at him.

“Come here.” Minho pulled him closer. The moment their bodies pressed together, he realized how hard the alpha still was.

Because of him.

Because of what they’d done.

Minho traced kisses down his neck, sucking at his scent gland. A high little sound slipped past Jisung’s lips, and if Minho hadn’t hit the most intense orgasm just seconds before, his cock would’ve twitched at that.

“Come on, baby.” he murmured, sliding a thigh between Jisung’s legs. “Use me.”

“Hyung - ” Jisung whined, but his hips had already decided what they wanted, grinding against the firm muscle of Minho’s thigh. “Fuck.”

“You’re doing so good for me.” He praised, and it seemed to have the desired effect on the alpha.

His movements grew more frantic, his fingers tightening around Minho’s arm. One hand reached behind to squeeze the flesh of his perky ass. And God, Minho had wanted to do this for so long.

Jisung gasped, eyes squeezing shut, lips parting. His brows drew together, giving him the most fucked-out expression known to mankind, and Minho wanted to imprint it behind his eyelids.

He squeezed Jisung’s ass cheek harder, guiding him against his thigh, setting a new rhythm.

Soon enough, Jisung’s body went pliant with a soft gasp against Minho’s neck.

Minho kissed his temple, then his cheek.

“So good for me.”

###

The car ride back to Minho’s apartment was unusually quiet.

Jisung’s nervousness must have finally gotten the better of him. Minho turned his head slightly, leaning his cheek against the seat as he looked over.

Jisung looked focused, both hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.

“Are you okay?” Omega asked suddenly. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I kind of lost it during filming and you know - … after.”

Jisung glanced at him briefly before looking back at the road.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” He said quickly. “You make me nervous. Not in a bad way though -”

He stopped for a second, probably sensing Minho could misunderstand.

“ - you just smell really good right now, and it’s extremely difficult to focus. But I want to get us home in one piece.”

Minho nodded, ignoring the fresh wave slick.

Well. 

This was going to be an embarrassing ride.

Before they reached Minho’s neighborhood, Jisung suddenly pulled into a parking spot in front of a store.

“I’ll grab some things.” Jisung looked over at him. “Any cravings?”

Minho shook his head slightly. “Just come back quickly.”

Because the thought of the alpha leaving him alone in the car was already making anxious feelings crawl under his skin.

Jisung looked at him like he wanted to add something, lips parting slightly before he changed his mind at the last moment. Instead, he only nodded.

A second later, the door closed, leaving Minho alone.

He took a deep breath.

This was fine.

Everything was fine.

He just kind of fucked with his absolutely gorgeous coworker and he might felt something more about this. About him. 

Minho’s abdomen tightened uncomfortably, making him hiss at the feeling. His arms wrapped around himself while his leg bounced against the car floor, trying and miserably failing not to look toward the store every few seconds.

Jisung had only been gone for maybe a minute and Minho’s scent had already soured.

Kind of pathetic, if anyone asked him.

But everything was still fine.

Minho knew his body. He’d done this before.

Okay, maybe not this, because he had never gotten thrown into a rushed, unplanned heat after losing his mind over an alpha at work - but he’d gone through heats before.

Right now he was still okay.

Give him another hour and the rational part of his brain would probably abandon ship. Again.

Jisung must have taken Minho’s words to heart because four minutes later he was scrambling back into the driver’s seat, pushing a full shopping bag onto the backseat.

“I got you some things anyway. Maybe you don’t want anything now, but later - ” He finally looked at Minho and his eyes softened instantly. “What’s wrong?”

Minho shook his head.

“Everything’s fine. Just -” He hesitated. “Clingy.”

Jisung blinked.

Slowly, his hand lifted and hovered for a second before brushing gently through Minho’s hair, fingertips grazing the side of his head with a touch that was soft and almost careful. Affectionate.

Minho leaned into it before he even realized he was doing it. The movement made Jisung go still.

Minho just wanted him closer.

His fingers caught the front of Jisung’s shirt and tugged. Just enough. Alpha leaned forward automatically, eyes widening a little in surprise.

So he closed the distance himself.

The kiss wasn’t rushed.

Jisung hesitated for half a second before he melted into it, hand sliding gently to cup the side of Minho’s face. He leaned forward, opening his mouth more, deepening the kiss. Minho hummed in satisfaction, fingers wrapping around Jisung’s shirt as he pulled him even closer. 

When they pulled apart, Jisung stayed close, forehead brushing lightly against Minho’s.

His thumb traced slowly against the omega’s cheek.

“We should get you home, okay?”

Minho wanted to protest.

Wanted to ask for another minute.

But another wave rolled through him, reminding him exactly why they were sitting in a parking lot in the first place.

“Okay.”

They made it into Minho’s apartment in one piece.

Jisung moved through the open living room and kitchen area to leave the bag down. Minho watched as the alpha started pulling things out one by one - energy bars, a few ramens, a four-pack of puddings, and some other things that somehow made complete sense at the moment.

And made Minho’s heart flutter a little at Jisung’s attentiveness.

“Well, I think you should have everything you need in here.”

Jisung started walking toward Minho but froze mid-step, his eyes catching on the hoodie tossed over the couch.

“I have the same hoodie.”

Minho’s eyes widened.

Fuck.

It really was a never-ending embarrassment wheel.

He cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the suddenly awkward silence.

“What a coincidence.”

Jisung’s fingers brushed over the fabric before he picked it up. Before Minho even realized what was happening, Jisung brought it up to his nose and inhaled.

Minho didn’t even dare blink.

His stomach squeezed painfully and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was about to have to claw his way out of the whole little hoodie thief situation, or because his heat was deciding this was the perfect moment to make his life worse.

“It smells so much like you now.” Jisung murmured. “I know it’s mine, even if it doesn’t smell like me anymore.”

Minho opened his mouth, ready to - honestly, he had no idea.

Deny it? Apologize? Maybe just die on the spot?

“You see that?” Jisung lifted one of the sleeves, showing Minho a tiny hole near the cuff.

Jisung suddenly smiled.

“Lix made it.”

“What?”

“It was completely his fault.” Jisung said immediately, pointing like Felix was standing right there, ready to defend himself. “We were playing Mario Kart.”

Minho stared.

Jisung stared back.

“In my defense, I was tipsy and Lix…” He paused with a loud exhale. “Lixie gets weirdly competitive over games.”

What the hell.

“And the hoodie?”

Jisung looked down at it.

“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I got excited, tripped over him, and somehow my sleeve got caught on his bracelet while we both fell.”

He let out a sigh.

“And he still beat my ass at that stupid game.”

Minho stared at him for another second. At the alpha who just absentmindedly rubbed his fingers against the fabric again.

“Would it help if it smelled like me again?” Jisung looked up at him. “Do you want me to scent it for you?”

“You don’t feel weird about finding your hoodie here?” Minho asked quietly.

“Why would I?” Jisung frowned. “Trust me, I feel a lot of things at the thought of you wrapped up in my clothes, and all of them are very different from weird.” he paused for a second. “Okay, maybe the thoughts themselves are a bit weird, but you having it isn’t weird.”

Minho felt his chest tighten.

“You could just switch the one you’re wearing now for this -”

Before Minho could even finish processing the sentence, Jisung had already pulled off his own hoodie, carefully placing it on the couch.

Minho’s eyes immediately betrayed him.

Absolute traitors.

They dragged down Jisung’s bare arms before stopping at his hands - tan, long-fingered, unfairly pretty hands. He wanted to see those fingers once again tracing down his naked body, wrapped around his throat, covered in slick.

Why was he acting like he had never seen hands before?

Minho bit the inside of his cheek to stop whatever pathetic sound was threatening to escape.

Would it be weird to ask Jisung to, well, maybe finger him again before he left? 

Yes. 

Who even does that, anyway? Asking coworkers for that, not fingering - Minho has plenty of experience with the fingering part.

Seriously, get a grip Lee Minho.

“I should go.”

Jisung snapped him out of whatever horny his thoughts his brain had decided to project.

“Uh - do you think you’ll be alright?”

He was leaving?

Of course he was. He never said he’d stay. In fact, Minho vaguely remembered Jisung rambling something about not wanting to impose. Minho wanted to shake his head.

No, he wasn’t going to be alright. Not because he needed an alpha. He didn’t. He never did.

But Jisung wasn’t just any alpha. 

He was kind and sweet and smelled like fucking heaven.

Minho wanted Jisung.

“Hyung?”

“Alpha.” Minho said suddenly, surprising both of them. “Stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“I want you to.” Minho had never been more sure in his life. “I need you - your lips, your hands. Whatever you’re willing to give me.”

Jisung stepped closer, pulling Minho toward him until their noses brushed together. He nuzzled Minho’s cheek, then trailed down to his ear before settling at his neck.

Minho tilted his head to the side, baring it for the alpha.

Their eyes met.

Something flashed through Jisung’s eyes, and it sent shivers down Minho’s spine. The cinnamon scent rolled heavier around them. His breath quickened as the alpha looked at him, completely mesmerized.

“My beautiful omega.”

Minho’s knees almost buckled beneath him.

Jisung’s hand rested against Minho’s jaw, his thumb pressing against his lower lip. He looked Minho in the eyes, the tip of his thumb brushing into his mouth.

“Present for me.”

Fuck.

Minho had never thought he would hear those words from anyone. He never thought they would affect him so much, making slick pool between his thighs as he sucked on Jisung’s thumb.

But Minho wanted to be good for him.

His good omega.

###

Two days later, his head lifted heavily from the mattress as the banging on the door refused to stop. Minho groaned, pushing himself upright, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as they adjusted to the gentle sunlight peeking through the drawn drapes.

Beside him, Jisung grumbled something incoherent, sleep still hazing his head.

Another knock echoed through the apartment, and Minho forced himself to his feet, his back cracking embarrassingly.

Seungmin stood behind the apartment door with his jaw tightly clenched and a slight twitch in his right eye. Minho caught it immediately.

Only when his nose caught the velvety scent of chocolate did he realize that Felix was standing behind his manager.

Minho narrowed his eyes at them.

“What are you doing here?”

“Crisis-management intervention.” Seungmin replied, not waiting for an invitation before striding past Minho and dragging Felix into the living room behind him.

Minho turned his head after them, blinking slowly.

“Did the heat melt your phone too?” Seungmin asked dryly. “Why aren’t you picking up?”

“Uh - ” Minho shrugged. “I was busy?” Then his eyes narrowed as another thought hit him. “Wait, what do you mean ‘too’?”

“To match your brain.” Seungmin shot back. “Lee Minho, what did I tell you about your public image?”

Right on cue, Jisung wandered out of the bedroom with a yawn and a stretch, his shirt riding up just enough to turn Minho’s brain to mush again. Maybe Seungmin had a point about that.

Seungmin’s head snapped toward the alpha. “And what did I tell you?”

Jisung’s gaze moved from Minho to Seungmin to Felix, then back to Minho, clear confusion written across his face.

His eyes landed on Minho’s neck, marked with kiss bruises, then traveled down to the fingerprints on his arms left by Jisung after two days of being manhandled and thoroughly fucked on nearly every surface in the apartment.

“It was very consensual.” Jisung said carefully.

Felix’s head snapped toward him, his eyes narrowing before he pulled out his phone and thrust the lit up screen almost into their faces.

“By the way, congratulations.” He said. “Over the last forty-four hours, you’ve earned the title of couple of the fucking year!”

Jisung’s eyes widened as he looked at the phone. Minho’s gaze shifted from the shocked alpha beside him to the picture on the screen.

It was them in the parking lot outside the convenience store, where Jisung had pulled over to buy Minho snacks. Right where Minho had kissed him, sweetly and passionately.

“Shit.” Minho whispered.

Felix rubbed his eyes. Seungmin looked like he was about to shove Minho out the window, and under any other circumstances, Minho would’ve enjoyed seeing Seungmin’s ass on fire because of him. They’d always worked like that - an endless push and pull.

But this time was different.

“We have a few options.” Felix started slowly, his eyes moving from Jisung to Minho. “We can say it was just the angle and there’s nothing between you besides friendship. We can say one of you is actually someone else, just some random person, and throw all the bad PR onto one of you - ”

“Preferably Jisung.” Seungmin murmured.

Felix gasped. Literally gasped.

“What the hell, babe? You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Seungmin’s eyes widened. “I am! But - ”

“You literally volunteered my client as tribute!” 

“Babe?!” Minho blinked, looking between them before his gaze settled on his manager. “So this is why you’ve been ditching me instead of driving me home?”

Then his eyes narrowed at the other alpha in the room. “Did you know?”

Jisung opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking sheepish. “Hyung - ”

Traitor.

“You knew.”

“Just look at them. They’re so sweet together.” Jisung gestured animatedly between them, pointing at Felix first. “Like the sweetest chocolate bread with - ” his hand drifted weakly toward Seungmin.

“Dry cough syrup?” Minho deadpanned, narrowing his eyes at his manager.

“I quit.” Seungmin shot back.

“No, you’re not.” Minho scoffed, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Okay, I’m not. But I would if I hadn’t been dealing with your bullshit since kindergarten.” Seungmin send him a glare. “So what’s your solution, then?”

“Can we just… not do anything?” Jisung asked suddenly.

“If we don’t release an official statement, either denying it or confirming it, the fans will take our silence as confirmation anyway.” Seungmin said, slipping into manager mode. “As confirmation that you two are dating.”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat.

Then it skipped an entire fucking symphony when Jisung turned to look at him.

“What do you think?”

“You want us to confirm we’re dating without actually saying it?” Minho asked, though he wasn’t sure whether he was asking them or himself. “Wouldn’t that be lying?”

Jisung stepped closer until their shoulders nearly brushed. His fingertips glided down Minho’s arm before gently slipping into his hand. Their fingers laced together, and Jisung looked down at them for a second before speaking.

“Not if you let me take you out.” He smiled, small and nervous. “On a date, I mean.”

Minho didn’t interrupt.

“Because I’d really like to take you on a date.” Jisung let out a quiet laugh. “Actually… a lot of dates. If you’ll let me. Only if you want to, and if you’re comfortable, and I don’t want you to feel pressured because that’s not what I’m trying to -”

There he was.

His rambling alpha.

“Jisung.”

The words died instantly. Minho smiled despite himself.

“I would love to date you.”

…

And they did.

For the next few months, Minho and Jisung didn’t leave the fans with much to speculate about. Even though they tried to keep things private, handling the new feelings between them with care.

Jisung remained the sweetest man, someone who seemed to have been clawed straight out of Minho’s deepest wishes.

His attentive, funny, and sometimes overly rambling boyfriend.

And possessive, Minho learned.

Especially when the biggest plot twist on the filming set turned out to be Christopher Bang playing the stalker of Minho’s character.

Yes, that Christopher Bang.

Minho had never been so thoroughly scented as he was during the days they filmed together. Cinnamon clung to him so heavily that Chan’s nose wrinkled every time they had to stand close for the sake of another shot.

And Jisung only smirked, clearly proud of himself.

Minho would’ve rolled his eyes. Instead, his heart swelled.

His Jisung. 

And more than a year later, Minho walked down the red carpet with the confidence only time could give him. Reporters tried to catch his attention, eager for a quote.

“Lee Minho, is there anything during the production that meant more to you than you expected?”

Minho didn’t answer.

Instead, he simply tilted his head just enough for the camera flashes to catch the unmistakable imprint of teeth left by a very cocky, thoroughly unprofessional, and still the loveliest alpha he had ever met.